Made In Heaven
by Urizen's Throne
Summary: Worried for her brother's safety, and angry after an argument with her boyfriend, Claire Redfield heads off to Raccoon City to find Chris herself. But Tony Redgrave isn't about to let some stupid argument hang over them, and follows after her. Unfortunately for both of them, a petty argument is the least of their worries once in Raccoon City... Co-written with Da-Awesom-One.
1. Prologue

Prologue: Dead On Time

* * *

Rain fell heavily from the opaque sky above, the fat droplets splashing repeatedly across the looming asphalt ahead, and the parched ground around it. The lone road was shrouded in deep darkness, the thick, dark clouds above hiding what little light the stars and moon could have provided. The unyielding raindrops further blackened the already oppressive shroud of the humid, miserable night. No thunder heralded any lightning to even briefly relieve this bleak night.

Far back down the lone road, a thin light began to approach, but just barely. Feebly cutting through the heavy rain and darkness of the night, the rumble of an engine accompanied it. Riding through the night and rain, a crimson blur shot across the empty road, a single figure mounted atop a sleek red motorcycle, their long, matching coat flickering through the freezing wet wind. Their face was hidden under a black helmet, the dark visor set dead ahead, the eyes hidden behind them ignoring the cold and the unending raindrops that made visibility non-existent. Their hands gripped the handlebars tightly, the exposed knuckles of his fingers nearly bone white, his riding gloves along with the rest of his clothes soaked from the seemingly never-ending downpour.

Ahead, the darkness began to give away just ever-so slightly as a series of street lights illuminated the road ahead. The rider's helmeted face turned just a fraction or so towards the relief. There to the right, just off the lone road, was a gas station. A Mizoil outlet, the logo glowing a bright neon blue.

The cycle pulled into the station, slowing to a crawl as it moved under the canopy, and towards one of the self-service pumps: the one closest to the lone phone booth to just on the edge of the station. Their right black boot kicking down the stand to support their bike, the rider eased off the motorcycle. One leg over the seat, and they were standing under the canopy in the relatively dryer, if not still moist air. Standing up to their full height, they rolled their shoulders slowly, a soft sigh issuing at the satisfying pop of their aching joints.

The rider was a tall young man, dressed in a long red, twin-tailed leather coat, with a black leather strap over his chest, a metal clasp holding it together. His high boots, finger-less riding gloves, belt, and pants were all black to match the long-sleeved buttoned shirt under his coat, untucked and loose over said belt as the buttons near his collar remained unbuttoned. A hint of a silver chain flashed around this area of his neck as his arms moved up, his hands clutching his helmet to ease it off, exposing his long, platinum-white hair and young, handsome face, his blue eyes partially open as he placed the helmet down on his bike's seat. He ran his left hand through his locks, sweeping his bangs out of his line of vision.

The young man glanced down at his bike for a moment, his intense blue gaze wandering from it to the fuel pump, then towards the glass-encased phone booth. His left hand slipping into his coat's pocket, the youth started towards the booth, his nose crinkling as his handsome face morphed into a sudden scowl. There was a foul odor in the air, like mildew mixed with spoiled food.

Stepping into the phone booth, closing the door behind him - mostly to cut out the stink from whatever it was rotting the air - the rider in red's right hand then snatched the phone off the hook while his left emerged from his coat, his gloved hand palming a small handful of change. Moving his thumb to sort through the coins, he slipped them into the payphone's slot, quickly punching in seven digits before leaning on the payphone, waiting as the dial tone hummed repeatedly.

"...Come on, old timer, pick up..." he muttered in exasperation.

Relief floods him as he hears a soft click, and a meek, childish voice answers, _"Hello?"_

"_Tiki, sweetie!_ Hey, it's Tony. Is your dad home?" the crimson rider asks jubilantly, his deeper voice somehow resonating the softer girl's childish aspect. "I gotta talk to him real quick."

_"Tony? Yeah, Daddy's here. One second."_

The line went quiet, but the young man, Tony, could hear muffled voices and movement on the other end before a new voice answered from the phone, this one deeper than his own, gruffer and roughened with age.

_"Tony?... What the hell, kid? Why're ya callin' me so late after your disappearing act the other night?"_

Grinning at the sound of the older man's voice, Tony's reply is easy and casual. "Yeah, sorry 'bout bailing on you before the Shibata job, Grue. Was Enzo able to set you up with somebody else, or did you try it solo?"

The other man, Grue, scoffed on the other end of the line, retorting, _"Yeah. He lined me up with another kid with almost as bad an attitude as yours, though not nearly as skilled, 'course. Enzo tried to haggle with the pay, sayin' since you skipped, he should take a larger cut for his finder's fee."_

The youth couldn't help but snort at that. "Yeah, that sure sounds like something he'd do. Same old Enzo... Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry for skippin' out on you guys on such short notice. Some, uh... personal business came up on my end, so I gotta take care of that first. I'll be back as soon as I sort things out here."

Grue paused for a moment, and Tony wondered if his partner was just mulling over a response, or taking a drag off one of his god-awful cigarettes. He hated those things with a passion, and his one issue with his fellow mercenary was him being a damn chain-smoker.

_"...This about Claire?"_ the older man finally asked.

His young partner's smile dropped as he stiffened, his free fingers rapping the top of the payphone.

Grue took his partner's silence as an answer._ "F__igured as much. __You seemed pretty steamed the other night after you came back from her dorm. I know you two had an argument, but you didn't say over what."_

Sighing, the red cyclist leaned back against the glass wall of the booth. "...She left earlier today. Something about going to see her brother in the next town over. Didn't even take her gear with her. Her roommate had been borrowing it," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "I just... I just wanna talk to her, y'know? Try to smooth over whatever it is she's upset about."

_"You said something stupid again, didn't you? **That's** what set her off, right?"_ the older mercenary chastised with deadpan snark. Tony found himself scowling as he imagined his partner's smirk, picturing it as easily as he heard it in his words.

"Like _hell_ I did!" he barked back, wincing at the small angry whine he heard in his own voice.

_"**Uh-huh,**"_ Grue replied, sounding as smug as a damn cat with the canary. _"Look, Tony, whatever happened is strictly between the two of you, and none of my damn business, to be honest. But if you **really** wanna patch things up with her, here's a word of advice: **apologize.**"_

The younger merc blinked, looking at the phone incredulously before retorting, "'_Apologize?!_' For _what?!_ She's the one that blew up at me over whatever's goin' on with her cop brother!"

_"And knowing the 'sensitive and compassionate' young man you are, you should've been able to alleviate her concerns without any problems, right?"_ his fellow mercenary retorted sarcastically.

Tony opened his mouth to snap back, but found no words, leaving him gaping like a fish for a split-second before he closed his mouth, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

_"Tony, you're a great partner, and a skilled mercenary besides, regardless of how young you are... But goddammit, if you aren't such a little shit more than 50% of the time. You get under everybody's skin, Redgrave. **Everybody's,** including me. Claire's a damn saint for putting up with you for as long as she did, but it's not that hard to imagine that this thing with her brother, coupled with your natural charm, finally set her off."_

"Oh, _bite me!_" the young rider snapped back impetuously.

The older man's silence was even more infuriating, because Tony just _knew_ he was smirking again as he took another long drag of his death stick.

_"**Mm-hmm...** Anyway, when you meet up with Claire again, try to act like even **half** as mature as you pretend to be, and apologize to her. It may not cool her off entirely, but it'll take some of the heat off of you long enough for you to work that other part of your charm that makes people like you... 'til they get to know you, that is. She's probably immune to it by now, so if I were you, I'd throw in a little gift for her while you're at it."_

The younger mercenary wanted to snap something clever back at his older partner, but when he mentioned a gift, his temper cooled down. Reaching into his coat with his free hand, the young man pulled out a small package wrapped in red wrapping paper, just a bit wider than his palm. Eyeing the item for a moment, he slipped it back into his coat, and returned his attention to the phone.

"Already beat you to the punch on that one, old man. Look, like I said, I don't know how long I'll be gone, so you might need to find a new partner for those jobs Enzo had lined up. Maybe that Gilbert guy? He seemed pretty good."

Grue made an unimpressed _"Hrumph"_ across the line. _"**Gilver.** Yeah, he made quite the impression when you and him tore Bobby's up."_

Smirking at the memory of his impromptu brawl with Gilver, the scarlet speedster replied, "Well, have him work off the damages, then. And mine, too, while he's at it. I'll call you back as soon as I can, Grue. Take it easy."

Without waiting for his partner's reply, Tony hung the phone back up, sighing heavily, and rubbing the back of his aching neck again. He wasn't too far from where Claire was supposedly headed, but five hours on a motorcycle, the last hour or so in the pouring rain, didn't exactly help. He wanted to stretch his legs, get a bite to eat from the convenience store, tank up, and then get to his destination.

Stepping out of the phone booth and back into the cold, wet, and stinking air, the motorcyclist scowled again, resisting the urge to pinch his nose.

"_Ugh!..._ What, did a skunk throw up on itself before dying?" he mused aloud, hands slipping into his coat pockets as he moved towards the station's door.

His icy blue eyes wandered around the lot, spotting a sign advertising a new burger they were carrying, which sounded a hell of a lot more appealing than the typical fried chicken gas stations always seemed to carry-

His train of thought and growling stomach both came to a halt, along with him, when his wandering eyes spotted a large splattering across the concrete ground just a few feet away from the station's door. It wasn't rain water, but a much brighter, shinier substance. Inhaling through his nose despite the foul smell, Tony caught just a familiar, faint scent of copper.

Blood. And a lot of it. _Too much._

Tracing the spatters, the man in red finally noticed the only other vehicle in the lot: a half-haphazardly parked police car, the headlights still on, illuminating the station's store in bright light, allowing the blood splatter to reflect a bright red sheen. Following the spatters, he discovered that they continued into the store itself.

Peering through the glass door, the interior of the mart was cloaked in shadows.

He sighed again, resuming his walk towards the door. "Looks like I missed a party."

Right hand reaching out, Tony pushed the door open, stepping inside. The door bumped into something on the floor, and quickly glancing down, he spotted a long, black tubular flashlight, the bulb burning bright, enlightening everything in front of it in a thin beam. Following its path, the pale-haired rider saw more blood on the floor, and overturned products off a blood-stained shelf.

"One hell of a party..." he mused.

Reaching down, the young man picked up the flashlight, stepping into the convenience store entirely, the door swinging closed behind him.

Moving the beam of light around, he called out, "_Hey! Anyone in here?!_"

Silence. Heavy silence.

Tony crinkled his nose again. The smell of blood was stronger inside, but so was that rancid stank from outside, somehow. Moving forward, sweeping the beam down an empty aisle, the man moved towards the fridges in the back-

His blue eyes widened when he saw he wasn't alone.

A large, heavy-set man was half-way collapsed on the floor, leaning heavily against the wall. Blood covered almost the entirety of his left side, with even more staining the floor around him.

Moving quickly, his boots impacting heavily, Tony was beside the injured clerk in a split-second, crouching next to him. "Hey, what happened?! Who did this?!"

Even as the words came out in a rush, the young man could see that the guy wasn't gonna be around much longer. The worker was holding his left hand over the junction where his neck met his shoulder, thick streams of blood seeping between his limp fingers, his skin a ghastly pallor, and fading quickly. The amount of blood he was losing would kill him fast, but somehow, the cashier managed to raise his shaking right hand, his index finger pointing behind him, his eyes glazed and half-lidded. Following the wounded man's shaking hand, Tony saw that the heavy metal door leading behind the fridges for the soft drinks and into the store's pantry was ajar.

Rising to his fight whilst continuing to point the flashlight ahead, he gave the worker one last look while saying, "I'll be right back. Keep your hand on that. Apply as much pressure as you can."

If the injured clerk had heard him, Tony couldn't tell, so he moved past him, pushing the heavy door open all the way. The air in the solitary corridor was even colder than the air outside, no doubt from the fridges lining the right side of the small hallway. Further down, he could see a faint overhead light illuminating a single door, slightly ajar. Even from the opposite end of the hallway and over the faint buzz of the humming refrigerators, he could hear shuffling movement, punctuated by an occasional grunt.

"Looks like it's a private party," the snowy-haired youth mused, his right hand slipping under his coat, producing a sleek, dark handgun: a 92 Beretta. Tony would have preferred to have something with a little more stopping power on him, but it was all he could get from Nell before heading off.

Moving quickly, boots scuffing the dirty floor, the gunman found that pervasive smell from earlier was stronger than ever, almost overpowering him... But something else was tickling the back of his mind, the origin of the scent on the tip of his tongue.

Reaching the door, he pushed it open, sweeping the flashlight out while keeping the Beretta half-raised, ready to act at a moment's notice.

"Hey, I've got a noise complaint! You maybe wanna keep it down?!" he called out, unable to resist the shit-eating smirk on his face.

His eyes caught sight of two figures in the back, one wearing the brown and tan uniform of the local sheriff, who was currently trying to pin the second person against the back wall.

The sheriff whirled his head around at the sound of the new interloper's words, shouting back, "Sir, stay back! I've got thi-"

Tony didn't even have a chance to warn the guy before the man he was trying to pin back suddenly lunged around, throwing themselves atop the sheriff, and pushing him down onto the floor with a snarling growl more animal than human.

"_Hey, get off him!_" the younger gunman exclaimed, snapping the Beretta up, and trying to use the flashlight to line his sight-

-But quickly forgot all about his aim when the second man snatched his jaws around the back of the cop's neck, a slick, meaty *_crunch_* issuing. The pinned man screamed in agony for a split-second, before a horrible, thick, tearing sounded out a second later as he yanked his head back, taking a large chunk of the cop's neck with him, his eyes meeting Tony's as the piece of flesh hung between his bloody lips.

As he stared back into the man's strange, filmy eyes, the crimson rider finally understood what that previous smell was. It was the stench of decay - of spoiled meat rotting away - and it was wafting off this man in waves, although 'man' was probably not the correct word to describe this thing.

Oh, it looked like a man, dressed in a dirty shirt and jeans, but that was where the resemblance ended, for the exposed flesh of his face and hands were an unhealthy-looking gray, the skin looking like it was ready to slough off his bones at any second, his hair stringy matted clumps ready to fall off from the top of his skull, and his eyes were a strange, cloudy blue coated in thick film, glaring hungrily back at Tony as he chewed on the hunk of flesh dangling between his torn lips, rotting yellow teeth stained with blood and filth.

This wasn't a man.

_Not anymore,_ at least.

"...The hell did I just walk into? A Romero flick?" the bewildered youth asked himself aloud in breathless disbelief, not breaking eye-contact with the zombie for even a second as he snapped his arm out, and squeezed the trigger once.

A loud *_BANG_* issued from the handgun, flames flaring from the muzzle followed by smoke. The 9-millimetre slug slammed dead between the ghoul's eyes, its head snapping back, body following into a crumpled heap.

For a moment, Tony didn't dare to move, his smoking Beretta and the beam of the flashlight still trained on the now-still corpse, his mind racing.

_That thing was eating that cop, already took a chunk outta the clerk, and was looking to have me for dessert. **Literally... **Dammit, what the hell's going on here?_ his thoughts screamed at him.

He had to get out of here. Away from this stinking corpse, and away from whatever Night of the Living Dead ripoff he had just stumbled into. Turning on his heels, coat tail flapping, Tony power-walked down the corridor, heading straight for the door-

-when he saw the heavy set of metal had shut closed somewhere in-between him arriving to interrupt the ghoul's dinner.

Shoving the flashlight into a pocket inside his coat, the aggravated young man snatched the door handle but found it taut, not budging no matter how hard he tugged.

"_Hey! I'm still back here!_" he called out, gloved fist slamming on the door, harsh metallic rings issuing with each strike.

Nothing. It wouldn't budge. The clerk must have passed out from blood loss, and knocked the door closed.

_**Dammit!** What now? If I kick the door down, I might end up hurting the guy on the other side, or killing him! Crap... There's gotta be another way out. Another door in that office where the cop was getting munched on,_ he quickly concluded, turning back towards the still open door at the end of the hall-

-When his icy blue eyes widened as he spotted something shuffling out of the shadows.

"Okay, this ain't funny anymore..." he muttered, handgun snapping back up as he watched the ghoul stagger towards him, groaning hungrily, its rotting eyes locked on him, black, sluggish blood oozing out from the fresh hole on its face like molasses on a tree's bark.

_Headshots **always** work in the movies! What the hell is this crap?!_

"I hate it when people break the rules," Tony griped, squeezing the trigger twice.

Two shots banged out, slamming home on the rotting monstrosity's forehead. The walking corpse stopped, head snapping back and stumbling backwards. But it didn't fall, a long, rasping hiss issuing from between its bloody jaws. One of hunger and impotent anger.

Eyes narrowing in annoyance more than anything else, the annoyed merc marched towards the staggering stiff, shoving his handgun back into his coat while easily dodging around its sudden lunge. As soon as he was directly behind it, the rider snatched the ghoul by its head, and gave it a quick, strong twist. A hideous *_crack_* of breaking bone issued, and the corpse crumbled into a heap. The red-coated man kicked it once, but it only rolled with the strike lifelessly, truly dead for good.

"Figured that would work. Rule-breakin' cheat," he hissed before turning and quickly storming back into the office.

His eyes lingered on the cop's corpse, blood staining most of the back of his shirt. Still, this corpse seemed to have no interest getting back up. Walking through some rows of canned goods and generic food brand boxes, Tony found the only other door out of the office next to a line of lockers.

Hand snatching the handle, his disbelief skyrocketed when he found it locked, his brow furrowing as he grounded his jaw in unrestrained fury.

"_To hell with this!_" the brash young man raged, booted foot whipping out, the sudden kick nearly knocking the cheap wood off its hinges, the broken lock clattering onto the floor. He stomped back out into the station's market-

-and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw another ghoul, this one missing its nose, blood all over its face and hands, staggering against a metal rack of chips and snacks. Up ahead, the rider spotted the store clerk stumbling back up against the door to the fridge corridor, only now his pallor was an unearthly white, no fresh blood seeping from the ragged bite mark on his neck any longer, his eyes clouded over, and jaws open as he groaned in hunger. Up by the front of the store, another ghoul shuffled against a shelf of boxed goods, moaning loudly.

"...Man, I never thought I'd see the day I'd actually bail on a party this crazy," he murmured while his mind raced.

He couldn't kill them all, he realized. He didn't have enough ammo, and if even one of them managed to latch onto him while he was trying to break another's neck, he might lose a chunk of himself to their nasty teeth. And if the fact that the clerk was now among the dead men walking was anything to go by, he _definitely_ didn't need to get bit.

Tony hated gunning and running, as it wasn't his style... but pragmatism won out for once.

"Sorry to dine and dash, fellas, but I'm strictly off the menu!" the white-haired youth quipped, dodging past the rather rotund and freshly-undead clerk, who groaned hungrily after him, large arms raising up like a sleepwalkers.

As he dashed for the front door, the zombie closest to him knocked over a shelf of food stuff in its desperate lunge, missing him by bare inches.

"_Clean-up on aisle five!_" he cackled, his humor somehow surviving despite the sheer terror he should have felt confronting the very real, _very_ undead walking corpses around him.

_Not that this isn't my first time dealing with weird shit,_ he reminded himself, charging for the front door-

-when a flash of hot-pink suddenly slammed it open, and the last person he expected to see stood in front of him, her familiar grey-blue eyes wide with equal disbelief as they met his icy orbs.

"_...Tony?_" his girlfriend, Claire Redfield, breathed out, while behind her, something shuffled closely, a moan of hunger following.

Instantly, the Beretta was up.

"_CLAIRE, DOWN!_"

She heeded his shout, dropping low, and in that split-second the handgun fired again, this shot slamming into the blood-filled forehead of the ghoul that had been lurching up right behind her, the back of its skull exploding in a shower of gore, and bits of bone and brain matter. The zombie careened back with a raspy death-rattle, collapsing in a heap of blood and rainwater.

Tony quickly walked out of the store, the glass door slamming shut behind him. His eyes immediately locked onto Claire as she raised herself back up, her own orbs wide with disbelief at the sight of the formerly walking cadaver that had been moments away from chowing down on her.

"You alright?" he asked her, smoking Beretta still raised, his utter disbelief at both the walking dead and her timely arrival pushed down for the moment.

"Yeah, I... I-I'm fine... Wait, what are you even doing here?" she asked breathlessly, looking back up at him with equal disbelief.

Looking away from her for only a moment, the young man's eyes narrowed.

_Well, it's official. My luck is pure garbage._

"How's about you save that question for _after_ we ditch this rough crowd?" His tone was low, and the young woman turned her gaze to follow his, her eyes widening once again to the size of saucers.

"Holy shit..." she breathed, and that was a most apt summary of the situation at hand.

Dozens of rotting, shambling corpses loomed before them, some missing parts of their faces, like the occasional eye or ear, with most of them without fully functional lips, but plenty of blood around the torn flesh where they had been, with a little under half of the ghouls missing an arm or a hand. One zombie had its right leg horribly mangled, a long white shard of bone poking out of its kneecap, but other than dragging the limp limb in a stumbling shuffle, it didn't seem to mind would should have been an agonizing injury.

The man in red raised his left arm protectively in front of his girlfriend, gently ushering her back-

-when a loud *_SLAM_* of flesh meeting glass issued behind them, making the girl jump and her boyfriend snap his gaze around. Behind them, a nose-less, eyes-filled-with-blood ghoul slammed its decaying hands against the glass door between it and them, snarling with hungry fury, two more of its fellow walking corpses staggering behind it.

Tony turned his attention forward, seeing that many of the zombies were less than thirty feet away, and closing in fast despite their slow shuffling. His mind raced, looking for a way out.

_Can't get to my bike or Claire's. Goin' back in the store's a no-go, and I can't kill 'em all... Guess it's either die out here in the cold rain, or inside by the relative comfort of the condiment counter. Least then I'd know I'd make a tasty snack for these freaks..._

His mind briefly flashed back to the cop, and his agonized screams as the hungry ghoul had torn into his neck-

Then it hit him.

The young merc stole a glance to his right-

-and saw the cop's patrol vehicle, the passenger side open, headlights still burning.

"Claire, do as I say, and run for that car _NOW!_" he ordered.

And a split-second later, they were both making a mad dash for it. When one ghoul lunged for the girl, its rotting hand grasping for her long, auburn ponytail, Tony thrust his left hand out, squeezing off a round from the Beretta, and taking a good chunk of the corpse's cheek and lower jaw off in a flash of fire and flesh. The zombie staggered back, giving Claire the chance she needed to dive into the car, and slam the door shut.

As he reached the driver's side, yanking the door open, another ghoul lunged towards Tony with open jaws, a wailing moan of desperate hunger issuing forth. The elbow of his right arm slammed into the ruin of its face, and his right boot smacked into its gut, flooring the corpse flat on its back.

"No one ever teach you about personal space, asshole?!" he snapped, quickly slipping into the driver's seat, and slamming the door shut.

He dropped the Beretta into his lap, grabbing the steering wheel with his left hand while his right reached for the ignition, very aware of the fact that the walking flesh-eaters would surround their car in moments.

_God, I will take back half of everything I've ever bitched at you about when I was sober if you'll let me have a break just this once, and let there be a-_

"_Bingo, baby!_" he cheered joyfully when his hand found the keys in the ignition.

Turning them, hearing the beautiful sound of a working engine, he snapped the patrol car into reverse, peeling back, the sound of squealing tires rising over the army of ghouls hungry groans. Straightening the car out as they drove back onto the road, the driver slammed his boot down onto the gas, and left the zombies in his dust, their shambling bodies quickly shrinking back, vanishing entirely in moments in the dark and rain. As the patrol car sped off, they passed a green sign that stated:

WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY, HOME OF UMBRELLA.

Tony let out a shuddering breath he hadn't known he was holding, while next to him Claire continued to look back, her eyes still filled with disbelief at what they had just seen.

Then she turned her grey-blue orbs back to him, looking at him both equal parts expectantly and confused.

Letting himself meet her gaze, her boyfriend admitted, "...Okay, this is _not_ how I pictured this meeting going down."


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Crash Dive

* * *

_Claire couldn't say she was too surprised when she got the call earlier. It was an infrequent occurrence, but just frequent enough to be expected every now and again, the fading surprise giving way to low irritation, though she was sure it wouldn't be too long before it became genuine anger._

_The young college student pulled her Harley up to the front of the Bullseye Bar, the purring engine coming to a stop as she switched the ignition off, and propped the kickstand down. Slipping off the warm seat, Claire reached up and eased her red helmet off, shaking her long auburn ponytail out. Placing the helmet atop the bike with her left hand, and straightening her hair with her right, her grey-blue eyes narrowed with annoyance as she looked on at the neon sign._

_Dressed as she was in a black leather jacket with stylized flames running down both arms, with her red tank top underneath, as well as her jeans and riding boots, she wouldn't look too out of place. Inhaling a deep breath, dreading what was to come, the young woman marched up to the doors, and pushed them open._

_Instantly, her nose crinkled as the mixed scents of stale beer, nicotine smoke, and sour sweat came upon her senses all at once. __The small pub only had a few tables, a row of bar chairs standing by, where the barkeeper responded to her arrival with a curt nod as he polished a glass with a rag that was only probably making the cup dirtier._

_She wasn't much a fan of bars, and had no real taste for alcohol save for an occasional drink every now and again. Usually in the comfort of her dorm, or with a nice dinner when her brother came by, which was another infrequent occurrence, and one more welcome than these. But Claire knew the Bullseye Bar all too well thanks to her roommate._

_"**CLAIRE-BEAR!**"_

_Speak of the devil..._

_Claire saw her roommate, the blonde Elza Walker, dressed in a white top and jeans, waving excitedly from one of the small tables near the back, just right next to the double doors that led to the stripper club the bar was connected to: Love Planet. __Elza sure knew how to pick the classiest joints._

_Claire started towards her roommate's table, her eyes noting the three gentlemen crowding around her._

_It was gonna be one of **those** nights..._

_"**Claaaaaaaire!** You came! I'm sho happ-" Elza started, her words a little slurry, and her cheeks were a bright red. Judging by the amount of shot glasses around her, she was good and liquored up._

_"Come on, let's go," Claire interrupted her tipsy roommate, snatching her wrist, and pulling her up from her chair._

_Every once and while, Elza felt the need to go out and 'loosen up' from the stresses of college life, which, in her case, usually meant going on a booze bender. Her roommate was a very happy drunk, as most discovered after a few drinks. But when she got smashed, she got SMASHED._

_Claire had gone out with Elza on a few of these experiences, mostly to try reign the blonde in, and act as a designated driver when the need arose, which it always did. Unfortunately, most places knew to call her dorm if the blonde was by herself, usually asking her to pick her friend up, and clean up any mess she may have made in her giddy drunkenness._

_She wished she could say she'd had worse babysitting gigs, but she genuinely liked Elza for her shared academic interests, as well as their mutual love of motorcycles. Claire hadn't met many other young girls her age with similar interests, so she'd put up with the other woman's vices for that, at least._

_Elza blinked her bright blue eyes in confusion, stumbling up as her roommate pulled her along, managing to slur out, "Wha-? But you juss got here!"_

_"Yeah, well, you drank enough for the both of us, so party's over. Now c'mon. We've got class in the morning."_

_Claire knew if she usually acted firm enough, her fellow student wouldn't put up much of a protest, and would probably thank her in the morning, depending on how fast she got over her hangover._

_She managed to lead Elza a step away from the table-_

_-when a meaty hand clamped over Claire's own wrist, halting her._

_"Whoa, cool your jets there, baby!"_

_Claire snapped her eyes up at the offender with their hand on her. It was a tall, barrel-chested man wearing a denim vest over a stained wife-beater and dirty jeans, his hair thinning, and his beard full and greasy-looking. His two buddies behind him were of similar apparel, and they all appeared old enough to be either young women's father. The auburn-haired girl found her nose wrinkling again when she caught a whiff of the guy's breath, and she fought the urge to start gagging._

_"We was just gettin' ta know yer friend here. Why don't you jus' sit your pretty selves back down, and we'll get ya some drinks to relax ya. Whaddya say?"_

_He offered the young woman a friendly smile, and she had to repress her gag reflex at the sight of his teeth, or lack thereof._

_"...How's about this? You take your hand off me, and we leave quietly. First and only warning," she countered, her voice cool and leveled, betraying the anger at her personal space having been breached by this creep._

_The man blinked, his expression turning bemused. "'Scuse me? I'm jus' tryin' ta be-"_

_She felt his grip tighten as he spoke, and what happened next was mostly by instinct._

_Claire whipped her left leg out, her booted heel nailing the man dead center in the face, a satisfying crunch signaling that she had caught him squarely in the nose. __The creep sailed backwards, smacking into one of his buddies, who had stood slack-jawed in shock instead of trying to move out of the way._

_The third guy, still standing, managed to snap out of his stupor, and lunged for her with an enraged look and snarl. "**You fuckin' bitc-**"_

_She cut off his rude response with two quick jabs, letting go of Elza's hand to free her own left, before following up with a spin kick that sent this creep up and over the table, a few glasses following him, and smashing under his heavy gut._

_The first creep staggered back up, his face bloody, and his nose ruined. Not that it did much to worsen his looks, anyway._

_"**Fugging bich!**" he gargled, and Claire let herself smile at how funny he sounded. It was like a walrus blubbering._

_Her smile dropped when he produced a small object from his pocket, a flick of his thumb heralding a flash of sharp metal._

_**Oh crap...!** she thought to herself, raising one arm in front of her tipsy roommate, who had stayed quiet, and watched the impromptu brawl with rapt attention._

_The thug took one charging step forward, his knife thrusting out, ready to pierce Claire's chest-_

_-but was stopped by a black-gloved hand that caught the man's wrist easily._

_Both Claire and the creep did a double-take before a new voice spoke up. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with knives?"_

_Before the man could respond, a second gloved fist slammed into his chest. Whereas her kick had knocked the man flat on his rear, this blow sent him flying back into the wall of the bar with enough force to shake the wall, and dislodge dust from a rafter above. The creep crumbled into an unconscious heap with a pitiful groan and whimper._

_Claire blinked, flabbergasted by the display of raw strength, and turned her gaze towards the interloper._

_He was a tall but young man, easily a head over her five foot six frame, wearing a long red coat over a black shirt and crimson pants, silver charms and jewelry hanging around his neck. Most curious of all about this newcomer were the snowy, silver-platinum shaggy locks atop his head, while his eyes were an intense icy blue. __The man smirked down at the unconscious creep before looking at the two remaining men, who gazed back with obvious terror._

_"Remember, boys, it ain't nice to put your hands on a lady without her consent," he chided, wagging his right index finger at them cheekily, before his eyes narrowed into something more menacing. "Now get lost. I ever see any of you pullin' this crap around here again, I'll give ya a personal refresher."_

_They didn't need to be told twice, and high-tailed it out of there, not even bothering to help their unconscious friend as they fled through the double doors into the strip club._

_The white-haired man scoffed, smirk widening into a sneer. "Wimps..."_

_Claire stood there, flabbergasted into stunned silence. Elza wasn't affected, though._

_"**THAT WASS SHOOO COOOOOOLLL!**" she screeched, jumping and waving her arms like an overly enthusiastic cheerleader._

_The white-haired man turned towards the women, eyes closing as he shrugged casually. "Eh. They weren't so tough."_

_Claire bristled at his nonchalance, suddenly finding herself aggravated by his remark._

_"I had that under control, you know," she remarked, her cool tone only just betraying her annoyance. She had a feeling they may have just traded three assholes for one, which wasn't much of a trade when one thought about it._

_The white-haired man surprised her by nodding, his smirk becoming a pleasant smile as he met her grey-blues with his icy-blue orbs. "Yeah, you did, actually. That was a pretty sweet kick. But when I saw him whip out that puny excuse of a knife, well... I had to do the gentlemanly thing, and get in on the action. Didn't wanna risk him nicking that beautiful face of yours, now."_

_That sent a unexpected flush of heat to her cheeks, which Elza would have been happy to point out if she was sober. Drunk as she was, the blonde was about to make sure the whole world knew. Her drunken roommate suddenly leapt onto her, causing the auburn girl to stumble as she hugged her just a tad too tightly, giggling all the while._

_"**Oooh,** Claire-Bear, yer sho cute when you blush!"_

_"Heh, glad to see I ain't the only who thinks so," the white-haired man added, his voice low, and that somehow made Claire's cheeks even redder._

_"**Okay,** fun time's over!" she interjected maybe just a tad too quickly, breaking free from Elza's hug to snatch her wrist again, once more trying to lead her towards the exit. __"As exciting as this all was, we still have class in the morning. And **no,** you're not skipping out again just because you'll be hungover."_

_Claire hated how motherly her voice sounded, especially since Elza was half-a-year older than her._

_"But I wanna watch the pretty man flirt with you **mooore!**" the other girl whined, and if the younger woman thought her cheeks were red before, she felt like her entire face was on fire now._

_The man in red laughed at Elza's comment, his left hand slipping into his coat's pocket, favoring both women with a smile as he spoke again. "Much as I'd love to stay and do just that, I'm afraid business beckons." His right hand motioned over his shoulder, thumb out towards the double doors to the strip club._

_**Of course,** Claire thought with a mental eye roll._

_But then the white-haired man met Claire's gaze again, and the auburn-haired woman found herself pausing as his expression softened ever so slightly. "But, hey, uh... If you got any free time tomorrow, I'd love to treat you to lunch."_

_Claire blinked, once more caught off-guard, allowing Elza to sidle up closer and whisper to her, which, in her drunken state, was just an octave higher than her regular speaking voice._

_"Do **iiiiiiiit,** gurrl! He did just shave yer life..."_

_Smirking at Elza's slurred words, the white-haired man added, "And a pretty close shave, at that."_

_Despite herself, Claire found her earlier annoyance at the man fading away fast. She didn't really have any interest in dating or partying like her roommate did, wanting to focus on her classes, and make her brother proud. But still, this stranger **had** intervened on her behalf..._

_"C'mon. I'll make it worth your while," he implored, tilting his head to the side with an amiable smirk. "I guarantee the place'll be way less shadier than this dump. I'll even throw in a strawberry sundae for your troubles... Whaddya say?"_

_After scrutinizing the man for another moment, she then sighed, lips raising into a small smile. Why not? It would probably be just a one time thing, anyway._

_"...Alright, hot shot... I get out of class tomorrow at 2," she informed him, once more meeting his gaze._

_With that said, his icy blues lit up, and he did a fist pump with his free hand._

_"**Yes! **You won't regret it, I promise! I know this great place called Fredi's. Trust me, you'll love their-"_

_"That's all well and dandy..." a new voice interrupted, a deeper, gruffer one. Both women and the lone male turned towards the voice's source, seeing the bartender watching them with an angered expression. "**But who's gonna pay for that table and the broken glasses?!**"_

_The white-haired man chuckled, extending his hand towards the barkeep as he replied, "Ah, put it on Enzo's tab. You know he's good for it."_

_The bartender scoffed, resuming his glass washing, but nodded, seemingly satisfied._

_The younger man then turned his attention back to the girls, his smirk returning. __"And with that, ladies, I'll see ya around." __He favored Claire with another soft gaze before turning for the double doors to the club next door._

_To her own surprise, she found herself calling after him. __"**Wait!** I didn't give you my na-"_

_"Already know it, '**Claire-Bear,**'" he interrupted, and she found her cheeks heating up again. Elza's drunken giggling certainly didn't help._

_Calling after the man again just as he reached the doors, Claire inquired, "Well, you know mine, but I don't know yours."_

_The man paused before opening the doors, turning back around to favor her with his easy-going smile. "...Anthony. Anthony Redgrave. But you can call me Tony."_

_With that, he stepped through the doors, and in a flash of pink light and sultry pop music, the young man, Tony, was gone._

_"...Tony Redgrave, huh?" Claire whispered, finding herself smiling again. Not a bad name for a guy like him._

_"You **liiiiiiiike himmmmmmm!**" Elza sang in off-key._

_Rolling her eyes, she pulled her drunk roommate along gently after her. __"Well, don't get too attached. I'm probably never gonna see him again after tomorrow."_

* * *

_...Hard to believe that was almost eight months ago..._ Claire mused internally.

She wasn't sure why her thoughts had drifted back to that day. Maybe she was grasping for something from a more 'normal' time, considering the insanity she seemed to have stumbled into.

After her arrival at the gas station, she had called Elza from a nearby phone booth like she had promised, mostly to reassure her roommate that she was fine, and almost to her destination without any problems so far, save for the last hour of bad weather. Then, after stepping out of the phone booth, she had heard the distinct *_crack_* of gunfire from inside the station. She had started towards the door, her curiosity overpowering her common sense for a moment.

Then she had seen the blood staining the asphalt right outside the door. That had been _more_ than enough to give her pause, and was her first clue something was very wrong...

Her next clue was the foul smell in the air, like rotting fruit and spoiled meat. When the first of the shambling creatures lurched into view, seemingly from out of nowhere, Claire realized whatever she had just wandered into wasn't just _very_ wrong. It was _horrifyingly_ wrong. The creatures looked like people. People wearing torn, and bloodstained clothing. People whose flesh was rotting off their bones. People with murky, clouded eyes, all of them locked on her, each with open mouths. Some were drooling, others leaking dark, clotted blood, but all of them were moaning in hunger.

The young woman's mind quickly concluded that it was a pack of zombies closing in on her, not people. _Not anymore,_ at least.

She had bolted for the station after that. And while running into Tony Redgrave had seemed like an impossible coincidence, he had saved her life once again.

They sat in silence as he drove the police cruiser down the lone, dark road leading directly into Raccoon City.

She could remember staying up late in her youth, watching late night creature-feature movies in the relative comfort of her room, with very similar premises such as the one she presently found herself in. Now that she had a moment to gather her thoughts, her rational mind was desperately clutching for a realistic explanation for the horrors she had just witnessed. As she wrapped her arms around herself, unable to fight off the sudden shudder quaking through her, followed by her skin bristling, the young college girl found she couldn't come up with one.

A sudden jet of warm air washed over her, making Claire blink when she saw Tony moving his free hand away from the heater controls.

The warm air successfully overcame the chills, and before she realized it, she whispered a genuine, "Thank you..."

His lips curled back into that easygoing smile of his, and he replied, "Anytime, babe."

Her gratitude vanished at that, her mind easily returning to their last conversation, the anger and hurt too fresh to forget. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. There would be a time and place for that, and it wasn't here or now, so she pushed the anger down for the time being.

The warm air began drying the lingering rainwater clinging to her hair and skin, though her jacket, top, shorts, and riding boots were still pretty much soaked. The hot pink matching vest and hot pants, plus the black tank-top and shorts underneath weren't the smartest choices for riding apparel, but Elza had borrowed her gear the same day she decided to set out for Raccoon. Claire had been in too big of a hurry to wait for her roommate to return, and had decided to leave anyway.

She knew Chris would be furious if- _when _he found out she had been on her Harley without her gear. It was stupid, though. She was a great rider, and his concerns were misplaced. Though in the back of her mind, she knew if she took a spill without at least any leathers, they would have been scraping her off the side of the road.

_Or maybe one of those walking corpses would have found me first, and decided to chow down... _a dark part of her mind mused. Another shudder wracked through her, this one not caused by the cold still clinging to her.

Tony looked away from the lone road ahead, giving her a contemplative glance before returning his gaze forward, left hand on the steering wheel while his right remained by his side, gripping his handgun. Just in case, she figured.

"So, uh... We gonna talk about what just happened back there, or are we just gonna sit in awkward silence 'till we're in the city?" the pale-haired man inquired, glancing at her again.

Claire closed her eyes, successfully fighting off yet another shudder as she remembered the shambling ghouls' hungry moans and horrid stench.

"...I'm not sure where to even begin," she admitted, still somewhat overwhelmed.

Tony didn't seem to share her current feeling. "Then I'll start. Are zombies a regular occurrence around here? 'Cause if they are, they _reaaally_ oughta start giving tourists a heads up... 'Course, I think the walking dead would be a bigger attraction than an umbrella."

Claire blinked, momentarily confused by that strange comment, even by the loudmouth's standards, before realizing what he meant.

"It's not an 'umbrella.' It's '_Umbrella,_' the pharmaceutical company. With a capital U?" she explained, relieved to discuss something else - _anything_ else - if it was normal and not the impossible, like the walking dead no doubt still shambling after them back on that deserted road to town.

The red driver frowned, before scoffing, bemused. "Who the hell names their company after an umbrella? That's just stupid."

Claire found herself smiling at his absurdity over the company's name, the earlier terror starting to fade away. She wasn't about to just forgive and forget what he had said only a day ago, but she would allow herself this. The man had a way of making you smile even in tense situations, and she was grateful for that, at least for right now.

"They were founded back in the... sixties, I think, so they probably thought they were being clever with some kind of metaphor," she explained, barely noticing that the patrol car was beginning to slow down.

Tony scoffed again, his gaze still focused ahead, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Bet they're regretting that choice now," he mused, before frowning.

It was then that Claire realized that he had slowed the car down to a virtual crawl. She blinked, glancing at the car window to her right, and she could see the lights of various buildings refracted through the drenched glass. The girl hadn't even noticed they had arrived in Raccoon City itself, too distracted by the earlier encounter with the walking dead, and Tony's attempts to lighten the mood.

His next words caught her off guard. "I know I'm startin' to regret driving into the city like this... Maybe we should've gone back the way we came," he murmured darkly, his icy eyes scanning their new environment.

Claire almost asked him what he meant by that when her own eyes focused enough to let her really see the street of Raccoon City they cruised down on.

The gas station had been terrifying, the terror and horror of that situation lingering still. But _this?..._

This was much, _much_ worse.

Rows of cars were lined on either side of them, all seemingly empty. Some were untouched, save for the still-falling rain cascading droplets down the glass and metal. Some had their side windows smashed, blood staining the driver and passenger doors. Some had their doors open, and every now and again, despite how badly she wanted to look away, Claire would spot a pale outstretched hand or leg hanging limply out.

A few street lamps still shined brightly, illuminating the dark street, casting long shadows on the tall dark buildings overlooking the street, none of the windows illuminated with any kind of light from inside. Small fires burned, some burning from inflamed trashcans, various torn garbage bags surrounding the street corners, litter cluttering throughout the asphalt.

Then... there were the bodies.

Men, women, young, and old. All kinds were sprawled across the sidewalks, some covered in head-to-foot in blood, the exposed flesh of their arms, legs, and heads torn, missing great chunks of skin, torn muscle and the occasional flash of white bone rising through the dark, rain-soaked night.

As Tony continued to slowly drive the cruiser down the streets, Claire saw more abandoned cars, more blood, and more bodies than she had ever wanted to see in her young life.

There were no living people in sight...

Or unliving.

"They..." she whispered, her heart pounding with reignited terror. "Those things reached the city..."

Tony suddenly raised his right hand, catching her attention away from the horrors outside. She glanced at him, opening her mouth to ask him something. She wasn't sure what, but the intense expression on his face silenced her words before they could form. His eyes narrowed very slowly, like he was concentrating on something. Then she realized he was listening for something.

She could hear it now, too, just faintly.

A voice, just loud enough to be heard, but oddly low, with a strange humming buzz under toning whatever it was saying.

Her companion's right hand reached for the dial of the radio set just above the gear shift. His fingers fiddled with dial and other buttons, and then in seconds, the radio crackled to life. Harsh static was all that came from it. Frowning again, he turned a dial, adjusting the frequency to another channel. More static. Claire swallowed, her throat dry.

Finally, after two more static-filled channels, he found a frequency, with a male voice, mechanical but clear and firm, speaking across the electronic void.

_"Attention all citizens: Due to the city-wide outbreak, you are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City police station. Food and medical supplies will be provided to everyone in need."_

The male voice stopped. And then after a moment, began to repeat its warning.

Tony switched the radio off, his expression grim as he returned his eyes to the road ahead, the cruiser's headlights the only other light cutting through the dark and quiet city. Claire found her eyes drawn back to the seemingly endless row of cars around them, trying not to focus on her growing terror of the incredibly bleak situation they found themselves in.

"Oh my god, this is so unreal..." she murmured, more to herself than anything.

If her boyfriend heard her, she couldn't tell, because he seemed lost in thought for a moment.

"Outbreak..." he mused aloud, making her blink and look at him again. "If they're calling it an outbreak..." Claire immediately knew what he was going to say next. "It must have started here, then. In the city. And those freaks at the station wandered their way out there lookin' for a fresh meal."

_Started here?!... Oh god! **Chris!**_ her thoughts raced, panic spiking her terror, and making her heart pound harshly against her chest.

"The-the police station," she started to speak, barely able to keep the quiver of fear for her brother's safety out of her voice. "It-it's not too far from here; just another block. The radio said people should go there for safety. Someone there _has_ to know something-"

"_Claire..._" the red-coated man interrupted, and his voice was firm. All traces of his usual humor were gone, and that made her realize the situation was as grave as it seemed if Tony Redgrave, of all people, was going to be serious for more than a minute. "If this outbreak's even half as bad as it looks... there may not be anyone there left alive... We might be the _only_ people left in this city still breathing."

The young college student stared back at the pale-haired man, her grey-blue eyes wide with disbelief, her jaw ready to drop, while the slightly older male's expression, if anything, seemed resigned to Raccoon City's bleak fate.

"_No,_" she snapped firmly, denying his belief, refusing to concede that they may be the only living people left. "No, we _can't_ be the only ones! Someone- Raccoon's a big city! There _will _be survivors at the station, and someone there _will_ know something about what's happened here!"

Tony gazed back at her, still looking somewhat resigned. Then, his eyes closed, and his lips curled upwards into his familiar smirk.

"Yeah, you're probably right... Sorry for being such a downer," he admitted easily, leaning back in his seat, left hand still clutching the wheel. The young woman could only blink, truly flabbergasted by his sudden switch in mood.

The pale-haired male opened his icy eyes, looking ahead of them before casually holding his right hand out before speaking again. "Only problem is..." The woman followed his line of vision, and saw what lay in their vehicle's path, "it looks like we're gonna have to walk the rest of the way there."

A large pileup of cars lined in a straight row sat in the road ahead, with several yellow and black traffic detour blockades propped in front of them. Claire briefly wondered if the blockade had been set up to keep the flesh-eaters no doubt lurking about in the city from advancing any further. She had her doubts about their success, as she happened to catch something in the corner of her right eye.

"More like run..." she murmured aloud, and Tony turned his head in her direction, quickly spotting what she was now watching, unable to look away.

On the corner of the sidewalk, two figures sat on their hands and knees over a third person's body. As their heads rose back up, revealing in what little illumination there was offered by the flickering street light, their pale, rotting flesh, blood-coated lips, and hunks of their victim's flesh hanging from their jaws. The zombies' white eyes turned towards them, and Claire shuddered, unable to see any remnants of their lost humanity. Only unending pools of murky white filled with mindless hunger.

The white-haired driver nodded, shifting in the driver's seat and saying, "Good call, babe." His left hand reached for his door's handle-

-when another pale, rotting face, and blood-covered hands slammed into the window, a hungry howl issuing from the zombie as it began beating on the glass with its hands in a desperate, almost furious desire for both of their flesh.

Claire flinched back, shouting out in fresh shock and disgust "_Jesus Christ!_" when she heard another smack of something slamming against her door. Whirling around, her eyes widened when she saw another ghoul beating against her door, with several more staggering seemingly from nowhere behind it, their rotting bodies quickly surrounding the vehicle on all sides. More and more of the flesh-eaters surrounded the car, their hands bashing against the glass and metal in eager desire for the morsels trapped inside.

Tony glared angrily at the zombies, looking more annoyed than terrified compared to the girl. "_Yeesh!_ These freaks ever think about of formin' a line?!" he asked aloud, offering her an amused smirk, which she responded with an incredulous look that screamed 'Are you _kidding_ me?!'

"Anthony, stop joking around, and back up!" she snapped at him, somehow successfully resisting the urge to smack him for trying to make a quip when life and death were on the line, with only a car door between them and the zombies' jaws.

Waving her off just as infuriatingly casually as ever, Tony grumbled, "Yeah, yeah..." and had reached for the wheel when his gaze happened to glance up. Whatever he saw froze him in place, genuine shock and disbelief appearing on his handsome face as he stared into the rear view mirror.

"Oh, you've gotta be shitting me..."

Claire blinked, his sudden shock catching her off-guard. But before she could say anything, she realized the interior of the car was gradually getting brighter. Blinking, she looked back, searching for the new source of light-

-and she saw what her companion had seen in the rear view mirror. The rapidly-approaching set of headlights were atop the massive, eighteen-wheeler semi-truck barreling down the street behind them, the long-nose front of the truck slamming into staggering zombies, and sending them flying in splashes of rainwater and blood. The truck was approaching fast, and showed no signs of slowing down as it charged forward, mere moments away from slamming into their much smaller vehicle.

"Holy shit..." she whispered for the second time that night, and from the way things were shaping, it certainly wouldn't be the last.

"Claire, get out." Claire was snapped from her stupor by Tony's sudden command, his eyes intense, all traces of humor completely gone once more as he repeated more demandingly, "_Claire, get out, NOW!_"

Between being painfully crushed inside a small car by a much larger truck, or being torn apart by hordes of the living dead, she couldn't say which option sounded like the worst way to die. But if there was even a single chance of surviving this horrible night, she was more than willing to take her risk with the undead than the certain death that was almost upon her. Claire whirled around, snatching her door's handle, and shoving at it to open-

-only for the number of zombies still pressing up against the vehicle to hinder her efforts, the door opening a fraction of the way before one of their stinking carcasses slammed it back closed as they continued vainly to reach for the living people inside.

"_I can't!_" she shouted back, frantically looking back at Tony.

While the white-haired man could push his door open farther than she could, he still wasn't able to open it entirely either.

Jerking back to look from her back to the truck, the red-coated driver braced his hands against the steering wheel and dashboard before shouting, "_HOLD ON!_"

Claire followed his motions, her eyes wincing closed as she tightened her entire body up, trying her best to prepare herself for the impact-

Screeching steel heralded a jarring and sudden bolt of heaving motion, the semi having slammed into another vehicle only a few feet away from the cruiser, the truck turning on its side before impacting the smaller car, and sent it spinning forward, the dozen or so zombies crushed under the tanker the truck was carrying, blood, flesh and sparks flying in all directions. The cruiser spun, coming to a painful stop against one of the cars part of the blockade, while the semi-truck grinded to a halt.

The world was spinning, a dull hum issuing in her ears as Claire finally managed to push her door open, and stagger out of the car with a pained moan, her boots splashing through rainwater. The young college student panted, her whole-body aching, the overpowering smell of so many rotting bodies and blood mixing with a newer smell. Something like diesel, or-

A sudden wave of heat washed over her, followed a split-second later by a loud *_BOOM_* of an explosion as the cruiser behind her exploded, the rush of heated air causing her to whirl around as she saw the flames rushing towards the tanker of the semi, and she instantly understood it was carrying a full load of gasoline.

"Oh, _shit...!_" she uttered before breaking into a sudden run.

That act may have saved her from the worst, as the tanker lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July in a massive burst of flames, the roaring explosion sending her flying even from almost twenty feet away. Claire's lithe body slammed into the side of a white car, and she collapsed onto her side with a groan, her body feeling one giant, throbbing bruise.

Gasping, whimpering in pain, she forced herself onto her hands and knees, then onto her feet, clutching her left arm with her right hand, her long auburn locks clinging to her forehead as fresh rainwater quickly soaked her once more. She hardly gave the cold rain any mind thanks to the intense heat coming from the huge pyre of flames that had once been several cars and the tanker truck. Her grey-blue orbs fell on the burning cruiser, and for a moment, she feared the worst...

"_CLAIRE!_"

The relief she felt hearing Tony's voice calling over the roaring crackle of the fire was immense, and almost enough to bring tears to her eyes. He was alive. He had gotten out of the car in time, just like her.

"_CLAIRE, TALK TO ME! ARE YOU OK?!_"

Stepping a little way forward, she called back, "_YEAH! I'M ALRIGHT! HOW ABOUT YOU?!_"

A pause.

Then, he replied. "_EH, A LITTLE SCORCHED! I EVER TELL YOU FIRE'S BAD FOR MY COMPLEXION?!_"

Despite the terror of the living dead and the near-death by crushing followed by burning, Claire couldn't stop the laughter from escaping past her lips.

_Yep,_ she told herself. _He's just fine._

Her joy didn't last long, though.

"_CLAIRE, WE GOTTA GO! THE STREET'S CRAWLIN' WITH ZOMBIES!_"

She blinked, looking around, whispering, "Oh shit..."

Once again she saw several ghouls staggering through the flames, uncaring of their burning clothes and hair, with more emerging from the shadows of alleyways.

Tony's voice called from over the flames. "_GET TO THE STATION! I'LL MEET YOU THERE!_"

Claire took a few steps back, trying to distance herself from the closing flesh-eaters, calling back to the man desperately, "_YOU DON'T KNOW THE WAY!"_

Somehow, she heard his cocky laugh over the crackling fire. "_I'LL BE FINE, BABE! NOW GET YOUR SWEET ASS OUTTA HERE, ALREADY!_"

The girl felt her cheeks heating up, and she was embarrassed to admit it wasn't from being so close to the raging fires. She heard sudden steps of heavy boots, followed by the crack of a handgun repeating, and knew that Tony was gone. He would have to find the way to the station on his own, and she couldn't stand there any longer.

With one last glance towards the approaching zombies, Claire turned and ran, her mind racing as she struggled to remember the street layouts of Raccoon City. She nearly ran into the back of a female zombie that was just standing amidst the chaos the city was engulfed in, and narrowly dodged it as the ghoul whirled around, arms flying out as it screeched in hunger. Spotting the burned out remains of the diner 'Emmy's' ahead, vaguely remembering all the times she would eat there with Chris on her visits, the younger Redfield realized she was on Bybee, and the police station was just around the corner.

Spotting an alley she could cut through, Claire raced for it, ignoring the zombies behind her, and the ones mindlessly ambling around the street, some banging on cars, others simply standing in one place and swaying on their rotting legs. As she cut through the alley, passing a large steel garbage dumpster with its corner in flames, the young woman fought back a scream of fright when a corpse laying in the flames weakly lunged for her with a pathetic moan.

"It's like the end of the world..." she whispered to herself, her right hand reaching down to her hip, where a small holster rested.

She had brought the small pistol, a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver - a gift from Chris - mostly to alleviate Elza's worries, but it only held five rounds, and she only had few extra cartridges in her pouch. When she first slipped it into its holster, she had felt a little better with its weight against her hip. Now it felt useless against the seemingly unending waves of walking dead that she knew had once been Raccoon's population.

_What happened here?! What **caused** this?!_ her mind demanded to know, but there was no time to ponder.

The young woman raced down the steps, and then up another, arriving just outside the Raccoon City Police Department...

And upon seeing the dozens of ruined cars piled outside it, alongside a blood-stained school bus, Claire nearly lost hope.

But when she saw that most of the station's lights were still on, she remembered her earlier determination. That there _would_ be survivors. That someone in there may provide her with much needed answers to this disaster, and, most important of all, confirmation that her brother was still alive and safe.

Steeling herself, Claire raced through the open path between all the vehicles, dodging past a rather rotund zombie that shuffled slowly by her, and ignored the ghoul that fell from one of the windows of the school bus, collapsing on the pavement with a wet, fleshy *_thump._* There were several more zombies standing in front of the gates of the police station, but as luck would have it - if you could really even call it that - most of them were too preoccupied with messily devouring a limp body a few feet away, with only one standing by itself, its rotting body swaying as if it was struggling to stay upright.

Claire made one last mad dash for the gates, praying they would be unlocked. She dodged past the swaying zombie as it turned quickly and made a lunge for her with a furious snarl, the college girl nearly screaming again when she jumped over an upper torso with no legs, and the corpse's arm snatched out for her ankle, missing by bare centimeters.

The young woman slammed into the gate, and found her prayers answered as the steel doors swung open. Scrambling into the courtyard, Claire whirled around, pushing with all her strength against the doors, and slamming them closed. She then shoved the iron bar lock into place just as the swarm of undead reached them, their gray, rotting arms reaching through the gaps in the gates for her. But the younger Redfield backed several steps up, her breath coming out in short gasps, her face flushed and finding the ice-cold rainwater somewhat relieving.

Taking track this semester had probably saved her life, and she would never complain about running a course again if she lived through this horrible night. Steadying herself, easing her rapid inhales into shorter, longer breaths, and willing her racing heart to slow, Claire turned away from the moaning, snarling zombies still desperately reaching out for her. The gates were old but strong, and made of steel. Same with the fence that surrounded the station. It should have no trouble keeping the flesh-eaters at bay-

-Claire froze when she saw the first white body bag laying limply on the ground just outside the station's wooden double doors. The first of many. At least over half a dozen of the body bags littered the courtyard, the two open doorways into the east and west courtyards blocked off by several sturdy-looking wooden planks.

Claire swallowed, her throat dry once more.

_Casualties from this outbreak. Maybe they closed those paths off because some of the zombies got in before they could secure the front?... _Her rationalizing failed to alleviate her.

If they had casualties and needed to block off the courtyards, things weren't looking good. The fact that the front gate was simply left unlocked may have saved her life, but strongly indicated that the station wasn't as safe as she had hoped.

_Still safer-looking than these streets,_ she reasoned. It felt like a poor excuse, but she couldn't stand being outside any longer.

Inhaling deeply, Claire steeled herself once more, and walked for the double doors of the police station. Standing before them, she reached out and grasped the handle of the right door, turning it, and pushing it open. She stepped inside the station, and felt her hopes soar...

Only to plummet.

The main hall of the station had been converted into a relief center, with several hospital stretchers laid out, along with boxes of medical supplies, and various other items...

The few stretchers still standing had bloodstains all over them, and most of the food and medical supply boxes had been raided and knocked over. Blood covered the floor, with multiple footprints trailing through it.

The hall was empty, however. The station still had power, as all the lights were still on, but there wasn't a single living person in sight...

Or unliving.

"...Hello?" Claire called, her voice just barely above a whisper.

Only silence met her.

And nothing more.

* * *

Welcome to the world of survival horror, Claire!

And welcome, readers, to a fic I've wanted to indulge in for YEARS. DMCV and the RE2 remake finally gave me the inspiration and motivation to write it out.

Shoutout and MASSIVE credit to Da-Awesom-One for beta reading for me on this story and making it way better than it should be. If you like Devil May Cry crossing over with Final Fantasy XIII, go check out his story Devil Fantasy XIII, seriously, it's a REALLY good one.

Big thanks to **Hotshot6, LumiaDawn, Nitrus7 Incensedbus87, Johan Phantom, Okami Princess, Player089, Shadowstarthelovable, SilverWanderer17, Tiger2014, , WOLFWATCHER12, kyudoran, riosdaniel753, sgolek1, **and **spencermatthew019 **for favoriting, following, and reviewing.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: All Dead, All Dead

* * *

"_Anybody here?!_" Claire called, her voice echoing through the large hall of the station.

The echo of her voice faded, consumed by the all-encompassing silence. The silence of the dead.

She took a few hesitant steps further into the hall, her boots squelching slightly atop the linoleum steps and tiles. The college girl's eyes briefly glanced towards the towering marble statue of a blindfolded woman in robes, a spear covered in cloth in her hands, before looking away. Her gaze then fell on the front desk, and the various large medical supply boxes. She did this mostly to avoid lingering on the bloodstained footprints that almost completely covered the floor beneath her.

She spotted the doorway that led to the waiting room on the west side, but it was barred off by a steel shutter, and the box with the over-sized switch to raise it up was wrapped almost completely in yellow electric tape, preventing anyone from setting the shutter back up to open the doorway. Looking away from the shutter, Claire made her way towards the front desk, minding a pile of spilled folders and paperwork as she did. Moving around so she stood opposite the desk, the woman's grey-blue eyes scanned from the table covered in boxes filled with more paperwork, a large stereo radio and a small electronic fan, to a large empty chest. Then she looked over to a second, smaller table, where a compact laptop computer lay open, the screen background a faint orange-red, the R.P.D. logo hovering in empty digital space.

Moving in front of the computer, Claire pressed a random key on the small keyboard, trying to recall what little she knew of computers. She was going to take a computer learning course next semester, which seemed so far off now that she was seemingly trapped in this waking nightmare that Raccoon City had become. The monitor hummed for a moment, and then the red R.P.D. screen went away, replaced by a green screen filled with folder icons.

Before she touched anything else, Claire's eyes widened when a large video box suddenly pulled up. Blinking, she stared at the new screens before seeing the words 'CCTV Control Service' at the top of the box icon. She stared for another moment in confusion, before realization struck her.

_Surveillance cameras, _she realized, unable to believe her luck.

Whoever had been on the computer previously must have been observing various parts of the station. They never closed it out, and just by touching a single key, Claire could now try to find anyone still in the station if they passed by one of the cameras. It wasn't as good as actually running into other survivors, but after surviving too many near-death experiences on her way here, she'd take what she could get.

Each icon displayed a different corridor within the station itself, and nothing else, not a single living - or unliving - soul in sight.

"Come on, Chris, where are you?" she asked herself aloud, pleading with whatever higher power willing to listen that she would miraculously see her brother alive and well in one of these cameras.

She knew the R.P.D. had at least 50 or 60 officers, not counting the unit her brother was part of. And if there were other survivors gathering here, along with emergency medical responders, the entire station should have been active.

So where the hell _was_ everybody?

A sudden series of flashes, accompanied by several *_pops_* caught the young woman's attention, drawing her eyes to the lower right-hand screen. She caught a flash of movement that quickly darted past the camera's view-

-Claire's eyes widened in terror when she saw a figure lurch from around the corner, their arms outstretched as they slowly shambled after whatever had just run by the camera's lens.

"Oh shit... They're inside, too..." she whispered aloud.

Tony had been right. The station was _far_ from the haven she had been hoping for.

The video feed switched again, this time showing something the young woman had been desperate for on arriving: another living person. Even through the muted gray and green coloring of the video feed, she recognized he was wearing the standard blue uniform of an R.P.D. officer. The male cop's view darted from off-camera to looking directly at it, his voice calling through and filtering out from the laptop's speakers. It was crackly, but firm and clear.

_"David! Marvin! You there?!"_

The officer stopped speaking for a split-second, his left holding a small flashlight out while his empty right was reaching into a back pocket on his pants, before holding something small up to the camera, his expression excited and jittery.

_"I found a way out! It's in here!"_ he ecstatically proclaimed.

Claire stared at the officer, bewildered by his words. But before she could try to focus on whatever he was holding, his hand dropped, and his head snapped back to look forward as the zombie shambled closer. Moving almost too fast to follow, the male cop slipped the item back into his pants' pocket, and whipped out his sidearm, firing twice, two more *_pops_* issuing accompanied by blinding flashes.

The ghoul flinched, seemingly doubling over in pain as the bullets struck it in the gut, but suddenly lunged out for the officer, who shoved the corpse back with a strong push. The ghoul stumbled back several steps, the cop's flashlight skidding across the floor behind it.

With one last desperate look at the camera, the man screamed frantically, _"Send reinforcements! East Hallway!" _Then he dashed off screen, the zombie lumbering after him, dark droplets of blood running down its shot abdomen.

Claire blinked, dragging her finger quickly over the mouse pad, and clicked the map folder on the screen. A basic blueprint of the station's first floor showed her that she stood in the Main Hall, while the East Hallway was only a few rooms away, past an office and through a Watchman's Room.

"I've gotta help him," she whispered aloud.

There weren't any police officers left alive, at least as far as she could see. Whoever 'David' and 'Marvin' were, they weren't around to help. So it was up to her.

Inhaling a heavy breath, the younger Redfield stepped back from the laptop, her right hand reaching down to grip the handle of her holstered revolver, trying to draw the reassurance from it that the weapon normally offered. All she could feel was the sudden trepidation nestling in her pounding heart. Releasing the breath she had taken slowly through her nose, the young woman turned around, and started away from the desk, her boots falling heavily, though her steps failed to produce much sound in the eerily quiet hall.

As the girl passed by the boxes of medical supplies, she stopped, glancing back at them, her grey-blue eyes spotting a small black flashlight laying by a first-aid kit. Reaching out, she picked it up, flicking the power button on it, and smiling faintly when a bright beam ignited.

Switching it back off, she slipped the item into her pocket, murmuring, "Never know when this'll come in handy."

_Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity,_ a voice whispered in the back of her head.

"Not if you're already in a situation that's beyond insane," she countered back, walking up the steps back towards the front doors of the station, turning right to face the way to the east wing of the station-

-before stopping dead in her tracks.

Another steel shutter was lowered, only partially, however, blocking off the path to the East Wing. A piece of cardboard was taped just above the painted white letters of the R.P.D., two words drawn in black marker, with one _very_ clear warning.

KEEP OUT.

Glancing down where the shutter had failed to completely lower, Claire had a very good idea why such a warning was there.

A rather large puddle of dark blood had leaked through the opening.

Fighting the urge to step back, the woman silently gauged her options, her eyes unable to look away from the puddle of blood.

_Okay... The station's **definitely** not safe outside of this hall, and trying to help that guy might get us both killed,_ the rational, if no longer calm part of her mind argued.

Swallowing, Claire forced herself to look away from all the blood, locking her eyes onto the large flip switch for the shutter instead. Focusing on it, she managed to ease closer towards the switch, her footfalls nearly as silent as a cat's.

_He said he found a way out... If the station isn't safe, leaving through the front door is basically suicide. If there's another way out, I need to know where it is. And I can't leave yet, anyway..._

"Not until I find Chris," the young woman whispered to herself, her voice surprisingly strong despite the mounting dread piling in her pounding heart.

Inhaling slowly, ignoring the metallic, coppery scent of blood overpowering the ever-present stench of rot that tainted the air, Claire reached out, grasping the switch with one hand. With nary a grunt, she pulled the heavy lever down. An electronic beep issued, followed by the grind of machinery as the steel door began to raise off the floor-

-before promptly stopping, barely a foot off the ground.

The girl sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Some kind of failure. Whether it was a power issue or mechanical one, she knew jack-all, and didn't have time to try to find the issue. With a wince of disgust, she moved next to the steel shutter, and eased down to her knees, a strange combination of relief and revulsion hitting her when she felt the blood was mostly dry, and only a little bit sticky.

"_Great..._" she muttered to herself.

Bending her head down while reaching for her flashlight, Claire flicked the light on, and gazed under the partial opening of the shutter. More blood. A _lot_ more. The puddle was huge, with splatters lining the wall behind a dead potted plant.

Lowering herself onto the floor completely, doing her best to ignore the disgusting sensation of drying blood, the younger Redfield pulled herself halfway through the opening, sweeping her flashlight out around the corner, gazing down the steps that led directly into the East Side's first hallway. Her light barely pierced through the heavy darkness, but it offered just enough to let her see ahead. Unfortunately, there was still no sign of that cop.

"Where are you...?" she asked herself aloud, mostly to focus on anything else other than the blood, darkness, and the heavy silence that somehow made it all the more terrifying.

Pulling her waist out from under the shutter, Claire rose back onto her feet, sweeping the light all around the East Wing hall she now stood completely in. Spotting a glowing green light by a row of payphones on the wall to her immediate left, just past a set of steps, she made her way forward, keeping the beam of her flashlight on the small glowing green dot, easing down the steps slowly and carefully, not wanting to risk tripping or injuring herself anymore than she already was just getting to the station. When she neared the glowing light, the young woman realized it was a fuse box, with only one fuse inside, the other missing.

"Well, I guess that explains the shutter..." she whispered to herself.

The missing fuse was probably the reason the hallway was pitch-black as well. And though a part of her was curious over its removal, she focused back to the task at hand: finding the officer.

Half-heartedly, she reached out for one of the payphones, pulling the phone to her ear. As she suspected, dead silence. Sighing, she placed the receiver back on its hook, and stepped down onto the floor.

When her boot made a soft *_splash_,* Claire flinched, snapping her head down along with her flashlight's beam. The clear liquid reflected the light somewhat, and the young woman allowed herself a sigh of relief. She now noticed the faint smell of chlorine in the air, which was thankfully somewhat overpowering the smell of blood and rot. Though she was curious as to why the floor was flooded, she was just grateful it wasn't more blood. Raising her head back up, flashlight following, she started down the small hallway.

Redfield passed a table overflowing with more boxes of files, and miscellaneous other items, her flashlight trailing over it, pausing as she took notice of the dozens of missing persons posters plastered all over the wall. Frowning, the young college girl turned away, noticing a set of double doors that led into the large office she had seen on the computer map of the station. She hadn't looked over the map's guide of the East Wing, but if she remembered right, cutting through this office was the fastest way to the Watchman's Room, where the officer would be.

Stepping closer to the doors, her boots splashing gently with each step, Claire reached for one of the knobs with her free hand. Grasping and turning it, she attempted to push it open, only for the door to refuse to budge. Frowning, she tried again, but the door refused to give. The young woman tried the other handle, but was met with the same result. With a frustrated sigh, Claire gave the doors a look over, realizing something behind them was probably barring them, which probably meant there was a very good reason why they were blocked off...

"Long way it is, then..." she concluded, her right hand reaching for her holstered .38.

Drawing the revolver and leveling it out in front of herself, her left hand that held the flashlight crossing over her right, the college student began down the corridor again, trying to keep her boots from making too loud a splash as she moved further ahead.

Arriving at a junction which was equally flooded as the corridor, Claire saw a few vending machines and another potted plant, this one still looking a little livelier than the first. She spotted another corridor ahead to her right, past a door that was boarded off. Turning towards the hallway, the girl started ahead-

-a loud *_THUMP,_* followed by an ominously muffled *_BANG,_* almost made the young college student scream, her head snapping towards the direction of the sound, her revolver following suit. Her eyes and the barrel of her gun were locked on the blocked off door, which was where she had for sure heard the sounds. Nothing happened for several seconds, no further strange noises emanating from behind the door.

Claire wanted to turn away, to lower her gun and keep going, but she remained frozen on the spot, revolver still aimed out at the door, and whatever was behind it.

_The sooner you find that cop, the sooner you can get the hell out of here, and away from whatever is in there, okay?_

The rational part of her mind sounded a lot more confident than she felt, but those reassurances were enough to get the young redhead to look away from the door, and start moving down the corridor once again. With one last wary glance from the corner of her eye, Claire continued forward, the soft splashing of her boots the only sound in the seemingly empty hall.

"Focus, Claire... _Focus..._" she gently whispered to herself.

Find the cop, the only other survivor in the building as far as she knew, and she'd be a step closer to getting out of this nightmare. Walking past a bulletin board, Claire came across another set of double doors, the wooden frames lined with small holes, with pinprick beams of light emerging through them.

Frowning, she moved towards them, holstering her revolver, and pushing at one of them, finding the door unlocked and unobstructed. Forcing it open, the woman peeked into the new room. Surprisingly, the lights were still working inside, and she saw it was a large auditorium-like room, one she recognized as the kind the police often used to make statements to the media, with various microphones, tables, camera equipment, and a podium all present...

Along with a conspicuously lone body laying directly in front of the podium in a pool of dried blood.

Not even pretending to bother, Claire eased the door shut, wishing she had something to tie the handles with in case that corpse decided to get up later. But for now, the wooden doors would have to do. Facing the hall again, the young woman saw her path was obstructed by an overturned locker with more yellow electrical tape wrapped around it against a metal rack of shelves.

She hesitated a moment, chewing on her lip in indecision. It was fairly obvious at this point why this wing had been sealed off, and she was very reluctant to remove anything that may let potential flesh-eaters venture further...

But she had to press on, and the longer she waited, the more danger that officer was potentially in. And if he was dead when she found him, she may never find a safe way out of the station, or worse, find out if Chris was even still alive. Steeling herself and squaring her shoulders, she moved forward.

Grasping the heavy locker with both arms, the young woman grit her jaw, and pushed against the strong steel, slowly pushing it upright.

"Really wish... Tony was here... to do this instead!..." she grunted out between heaves.

For a moment, fresh terror spiked through her heart as she imagined him, lost in Raccoon's burning streets, the undead hot on the tails of his coat.

_He's **fine...** He said he'd find his way here. He's probably just cracking more stupid one-liners while running for his life..._

The thought of his cocky grin and arrogant attitude brought a smile to her straining face. With one last shove and a loud grunt, Claire successfully pushed the locker upright against the wall with a soft *_clang_* of metal against plaster. Panting softly, she rubbed her aching shoulder, wincing slightly. Moving a heavy object after slamming into a car from the force of an explosion wasn't probably the smartest thing to do, but aside from some fresh soreness, she'd live...

Unwilling to dwell on that particular thought any longer, the girl started forward again, her boots no longer splashing, and she noticed the floor had a slight incline and an open pathway to her left. Giving it a quick glance, she saw another makeshift barricade, this one composed of dozens of chairs, desks, and other pieces of furniture, along with a bathroom, a whiteboard sign situated next to it with the words 'Cleaning In Progress' written on it. Gingerly, Claire gave the water flooding the floor another look.

"Please be from an overflowing sink..." she whispered to herself, idly wondering what she found more disgusting: dirty water from a toilet, or blood.

Turning away from the left side passage, Claire made her way towards the upper right corridor... and quickly found her answer.

"_Ugh,_ oh my god..." she murmured aloud in disgust.

Several bodies were collapsed along the corner just under the lone window, shattered glass littering the massive pools, and splashes of blood all over the floor and wall. The window was barred off with several sturdy-looking planks of wood wrapped in yellow police tape, fresh rainwater drizzling in.

As Claire approached further, she saw that the light over the Watchman's Office was still on, illuminating the body of a dead officer in blue next to another door on the far wall just adjourning the office, with a hat atop his lowered head, obscuring his face. Looking away from the carnage, fighting down her rising gorge at the fresh, overwhelming smell of slaughter, Redfield saw another door to her right, but didn't even think of trying to open it when she saw the heavy chain and lock wrapped around the handle.

The East Wing's large office was decisively off-limits, it seemed.

Before she could give it another thought, a loud, desperate voice interrupted her thoughts and caught her immediate attention. "_OPEN UP! HURRY! OPEN UP!_"

Claire's head snapped towards the Watchman's Office, her feet moving before her mind could react, boots scuffing the dirty bloodstained floor as she shoved the door open, and stormed into the small office. Ahead, past the large bookcase filled with more folders and books, a set of desks - one with a small desk lamp offering much needed light to the small room - was another metal shutter that had been lowered. The young woman could hear the sound of fists slamming against unyielding steel.

The voice cried out again, somehow louder, cracking with obvious terror. "_OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR!_"

She had dawdled too long, not getting there fast enough. And now, someone was about to pay for her hesitation. Possibly with their life.

Rushing over to the shutter, Claire saw no large flip switch to raise it up, and realized it was probably on the other side, or perhaps not functioning at all, which would explain his obvious panic.

"_I'm here!_" she called to him, dropping down onto the back of her heels, and desperately attempting to worm her fingers under the heavy steel to try and lift it up. To save this man from this nightmare.

"_OPEN THE DOOR! HURRY UP! HURRY UP, OPEN IT!_"

His screaming kept rising in octaves, and Claire willed her aching arms to pull the gate up faster. Finally, the hatch came up, and an arm thrust under the opening, waving frantically, clutching something tightly all the while.

Pulling the gate up a little more, the frantic young woman grabbed the officer's arm with her right hand while urging him, "Here, give me your hand!"

"_Here, here, help me!_" the cop pleaded, and Claire rose back up while stepping back, using her sudden momentum to pull the heavier man forward. The policeman's head and left arm followed his right, his torso inching out too slow for comfort.

"Hold on, give me your–_ give me your other hand!_" she cried, her straining arms not pulling him fast enough.

He wriggled under the shutter, waving his left arm out for hers to grab by the wrist, and Claire began pulling with all her might, heart pounding, adrenaline fueling her, giving her a second wind-

-and the policeman screamed in complete, utter agony, a sound that chilled the young woman to the bone as blood _erupted _like a geyser fount from behind the shutter, a slick, wet meaty sound accompanying the cop's screams of pain, under toned by the rasping groan of the undead.

Claire pulled at the man harder, desperately shouting over his screams, "_It's okay! I got you!_" But if he heard or understood her was beyond her, his face contorted in horror and pain, more blood gushing, more horrible tearing meat sounds, and more hungry groans from behind the shutter. With one last desperate pull, the redheaded woman managed to yank the cop out from under the shutter-

-and she nearly screamed when she saw a massive, red, slimy hole where his waist and legs should have been, long, tubular ropes of intestines and fleshy sinew trailing through rivers of blood and gore. Claire's hands shot to her mouth, her eyes wide in horror and profound sadness, the man's screams stopping, his face rapidly paling from a healthy tan to a deathly white.

"Oh..._ Oh my god...!_" she gasped, but the officer was still weakly waving his arms over his head, his dying expression still determined. Pain-filled, but desperate.

"_Tell... Marvin..._" he choked out, thin streams of blood sliding down the sides of his mouth. Then, his arms went limp, his left falling silently to the floor while his right rested on his chest, and his torso went still.

Panting, choking back tears, Claire whispered brokenly, "I'm so sorry..."

Her mind raced, deep waves of pity for this dead officer, mixed with bitter, sudden self-loathing rushing through her all at once. She should have moved faster, and not been so overwhelmed by the situation. She could have saved him. She _should_ have saved him.

Claire wanted to scream, or cry. She was a nineteen year old college student. She was supposed to be worrying about her classes, trying to forgive Tony for his stupid mistake that pushed her to rush off to Raccoon. And instead, here she was, knee deep in blood and horror, the living dead eager to sink their rotting teeth into her warm flesh.

She wanted to go home. She wanted Chris to find her, and take her away from this nightmare.

Her self-pity didn't last long when she heard harsh, heavy smacks of multiple hands bashing against the steel shutter less than two feet away. Claire's head snapped up, her grey-blue eyes wide with terror as she watched the shutter visibly shake and move, each smack punctuated by a snarling groan from what had to be several zombies slamming their rotting hands against it.

"Oh god..." she uttered breathlessly.

Staying here feeling sorry for herself wasn't an option. The officer was dead, but she _wasn't._ She had to stay alive. To find Chris, and reunite with Tony, if nothing else.

Glancing down at the departed officer, Claire allowed herself one last moment of sympathy for him and slight anger for her failure to save him, before starting to rise back up-

-when her knee brushed his right arm, causing it to limply fall to the side, his fingers going lax, and letting a small brown pocket book slip out of his grasp. Blinking, Claire stared at the object for a second, before realization struck her, causing her to bend back down and pick it up. Upon holding it closer, she realized exactly what it was.

_This is what he held up to the camera, when he was saying he found a way out. It's in here!_

Her mind racing, the girl frantically opened the small notebook, her eyes wide with hopeful excitement; that the officer hadn't died in vain after all. She flipped through the small pages, getting to the very last ones that had been written on. Her hope turned to confusion when all she found were some crude drawings on the small paper.

On the first two, there was a doodle of a figure holding something, followed by a rectangle floating next to it, with three empty circles inside, three other circles above it only colored in with red ink, then a smaller connected passage under the figure, which led to another passage with a question mark inside it, which _then_ led up into another box with the words 'parking deck' written inside it. She urged herself to slow down, and focus on the drawings. _Not_ the undead banging at the door less than a foot away from herself. When she saw the scribbled writing next to the doodle that read 'goddess statue,' it all clicked in the college girl's mind in an instant, causing her eyes to widen.

"The statue... In the hall. The way out's under it!" she breathed in disbelief.

_A way out of here. A secret underground passage that might not have a single zombie lurking around. A **safe** way out of here!_

That thought alone drowned out the obvious question of why a police station would have a secret passage built under it, but she'd dwell on that later... if there even _was_ a later. For right now, she had to get out of here, and find someplace safe to pore over these pages, and plan her next move.

Stuffing the notebook into her hip satchel, Claire stood up quickly, looking away from the steel shutter still being banged on relentlessly, and started for the door out of the Watchman's Office-

-when the wooden door shook violently, something heavy throwing itself against the frame, punctuated with a vicious, starving hiss.

"Shit," Claire hissed, her right hand snatching her revolver out of its holster, the handgun drawn and ready in a split-second as the door continued to shake and rattle. The young woman berated herself once again for dawdling, allowing a walking corpse to corner her in this suddenly too small of an office.

_Aim for the head. Shoot it in the head, just like Tony did at the gas station,_ she reminded herself.

She was a good shot. Chris and Tony both had taken her to a target range for practice. But that was stationary paper, and this would be a moving target.

She didn't dwell on that thought for long as the door gave in, smashing open as the zombie, which she recognized as the seemingly dead cop she had passed upon arriving at the Watchman's Office, lunged in with a hungry snarl. Drawing a bead on one of his filmy eyes, Claire squeezed the trigger.

The shot was much louder in the enclosed space, drowning out the zombie's grunt as the bullet found its cheek instead of its eye, the creature's head snapping back, its hat flying off as it staggered back... but failed to fall over, the undead righting itself, fixing its white eyes on the shocked woman as it opened its mouth in another hungry growl, thick, dark blood oozing down its ruined cheek and mouth.

_Headshots usually work in the movies!_ her terrified mind rambled. But this was reality, not a movie, and she needed to put this thing down fast.

Focusing her aim again, Claire fired, the revolver nearly jumping out of her shaking hands. The second round slammed home right on the zombie's nose, shattering it in a spray of black gore and cartilage.

That seemed to do the trick, as the ghoul let out a long, rattling groan, before collapsing backwards, hitting the door again as it tried to swing close, pushing it open, and blocking it with its now permanently dead weight. Keeping the .38 trained on the now inert corpse, Claire moved quickly but carefully around it - just in case - before turning and breaking for the corridor back around the East Office.

As she passed the pile of bodies, a sudden snarl and pounding sound nearly made her scream, but her wide eyes followed the noise, spotting another zombie behind the barred window, one long arm futilely reaching through one of the gaps between the wooden boards, bloody fingers grasping desperately for her, but unable to break the barrier between them thankfully.

Doubling her speed, Claire raced down the flooded passage, her boots making large splashes through the cold water, but just as she rushed past the locker and doors to the media room, she heard the very loud sound of wood crashing open, followed by more hungry moans of the damned. Skidding to a halt, the young woman only half-remembered the blocked-off door she had passed on her way to the Watchman's Office when she saw not one, but _two_ zombies staggering from around the corner. They used to be a man and woman, formerly alive, now dead and searching for a fresh meal. Taking several steps back, Redfield raised her revolver again, pointing it at the closest approaching one, the woman, and aimed for her pale, blood-stained face.

The crack of the .38 was still pretty loud in the relatively open corridor, but easier to bear with. Much to Claire's relief, the bullet struck squarely on the woman's forehead, her skull exploding in a shower of blood and long locks of blonde hair as the body tumbled backwards, colliding with the male zombie, who rolled with the hit, and kept coming. Quickly targeting him, the younger Redfield fired twice, both bullets slamming into his face, and the undead went down with the woman. Lowering the smoking revolver, she broke into a fresh run, not even bothering to check the now open room to her right, just breaking for the partially open shutter that would take her back to the safety of the unoccupied Main Hall.

Clearing the small stairs in two great lunges, Claire practically dove for the shutter's opening. But as she squeezed her head and shoulders under it, she realized the damn thing must have dropped down partially after she had first crawled under it, as she could barely fit through now. With a harsh grunt of effort, she managed to shove the heavy metal sheet up a couple of inches, which was more than enough to let her start to half-wriggle, half-crawl out from under the dark, blood-soaked corridor. She had just pulled herself out from under the shutter almost entirely, and for half-a-second, the young college girl almost breathed a sigh of relief-

-when she felt something snatch her by the ankle of her boot, the sound of flesh against leather somehow drowned out by the hungry growl that was right behind her. Eyes widening, the startled young woman snapped her head around, her terror confirmed as she saw one of the zombies had somehow caught up with her, and was gripping her ankle with inhuman strength that a rotting corpse shouldn't have. The animated corpse was missing the left half of its cheeks, excess blood mixed with drool dripping down its snarling jaws as its hand yanked her leg back, dragging her bodily back towards itself.

Futilely, Claire attempted to kick at the creature with her free leg, but found it trapped under the zombie's body. Desperate, she began clawing at the floor while screaming, "_Get off! Get OFF! HELP! HEEELP!_"

Her screams fell on undead ears, and she felt the horrid monster get a grip on her arm.

"_SOMEONE HEEELP! HELP ME! TONYYY!_"

Pulling itself over her, the undead's stinking breath was right _on her neck-_

-when something else grabbed her upper arm, and gave a hard but firm yank, freeing her from the zombie's grasp, and dragging her completely into the Main Hall. Claire saw a flash of blue, someone tall standing over her, move towards the shutter. All the while the zombie ragged and snarled, desperately trying to pull itself out as well.

As the figure moved in front of the steel door, Claire cried out a warning, "_Watch out!_"

"On it." The voice was cool and calm, hardly fazed by the zombie's almost frantic mania to grasp at them-

-and the steel shutter was slammed down, hard, atop its head, crushing it like a melon into pulpy bits of blood, brain matter, and bits of skull.

With an exhale of effort mixed with fatigue, the figure collapsed against the steel door, looking down at Claire while asking, "You alright?"

The shell-shocked redhead remained on the floor, eyes wide with a myriad of emotions: awe, lingering terror, and much needed sweet relief.

Blinking, the young woman looked up at her rescuer as she responded breathlessly, "Yeah."

He was a tall, dark-skinned man with a light beard, and was in the standard blue shirt and dark khakis of a police uniform. The R.P.D. logo was on his uniform's shoulder, his belt strapped with a holstered sidearm, radio, the works... while a large open wound on the right side of his lower abdomen was barely hidden behind one bloodstained hand.

"You're safe... for now," he uttered, before gritting his jaw and wincing in obvious pain, sinking against the steel door while his hand spasmed over his wound. Regaining his composure, he looked back to her. "Marvin Branagh."

Still hyperventilating, unable to really digest how close she had come to dying and becoming one of the walking dead's latest meals, all Claire could respond with was a dazed, "Thanks..."

Pushing himself away from the steel shutter, still clutching the bloody patch on his side, the wounded officer, Marvin, stepped towards the stunned woman while saying, "Obviously someone taught you well."

Still composing herself, Claire rambled, "Yeah. I know how to take care of myself..."

Thinking back on the brief but nightmarish trek through the East Wing of the station, it hadn't really been the skills she had picked up from Chris that saved her life, though. Just luck, and a few well-placed bullets.

"_...Mostly,_" she added quietly.

The young college girl blinked when a bloody hand came into her line of vision. Looking up, she saw the policeman standing directly over her, left hand extended out.

"Come on," he urged gently.

Finally calming her breathing, her heart still pounding, but less harshly, she gratefully accepted his hand, the officer hoisting her up despite his wound. Standing up and meeting Marvin's brown orbs, realization struck Claire like a lightning bolt. Looking down at her hip pouch, she dug around for a moment before producing the small pocket notebook she had taken from the dead cop in the Watchman's Room.

"The other officer, he-" she started, pausing as she choked back a sob, and willed her eyes to not fill with tears again. Inhaling shakily, she forced herself to just say it. "He found a way out."

Silent, Marvin looked from Claire to the notebook, reaching out with his hand to grasp it.

Giving it one last look over, the policeman started past her with a slight grimace, saying "This way."

Claire was just about to follow when she realized she hadn't introduced herself to the man who had saved her life. "Claire!"

The man stopped, looking back at her over his shoulder.

Steadying herself and meeting his eyes, she added, "Claire Redfield..."

Marvin's lips twitched up into a bemused smirk as he chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Nice to meet you, Claire. Now come on. Let's see what Elliot found."

With that said, the officer started down the steps into the Main Hall, with the younger woman close behind.

* * *

Enter Marvin!

Not much else to say except thank you to everyone who has faved, followed, and taken the time to review this story of mine.

Quick author's note for the most frequent question this story has gotten on Dante: This the Tony Redgrave incarnation of the character, so it's technically before DMC3, he's still half-demon, just kind of amnesiac, he doesn't have Ebony and Ivory yet, and he didn't bring his sword with him because he never carries it when he's with Claire.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Good Company

* * *

"So nobody knows what caused this?"

No sooner had Marvin led her to the base of the Goddess Statue overlooking the R.P.D.'s Main Hall, where a few surgical curtains and benches were situated around a small table, did Claire ask the question burning in her mind from the moment she had seen the horror consuming Raccoon City alive: _How had this happened?_

The officer had sat down on the bench pulled closest to a small table, where he could peer into the laptop he had moved from the front desk, leaving the young woman to stand idly by. Her hands moved reflexively as she drew her small revolver, breaking the cylinder open to let the expended cartridges slip out with a few soft *_clinks_* as they struck the linoleum floor below. As she reloaded her weapon, letting the familiar motions calm her rattled nerves from the close encounter with the literal jaws of death only moments ago, Marvin finally replied, still looking at the laptop, but inclining his head towards her as he spoke.

"There's a lot of theories..."

To that, Claire resisted the urge to let out a frustrated groan.

_Gee, nice to hear. Feel like sharing any of them?_ her mind scathingly retorted, but the young woman bit her tongue.

This man had saved her life, and he was already badly banged up, by the looks of it. He didn't need her sarcasm, especially not now. The college girl was suddenly thankful Tony wasn't there, because he was _NEVER_ one to bite back the chance for a sarcastic retort.

Swallowing quietly, loading the last bullet into her revolver, she prayed that her wayward companion was either close to finding his way to the station, or already here, in one of the back areas inside. Alive, and safe. Not by much, but at least no longer on the streets with the undead on the tail of his coat.

"But all I know for sure is that this place is crawling with zombies," the older man continued, turning to face Claire as she holstered her .38.

With his right arm, Marvin held his hand out towards her, and the girl saw he was holding a small handheld radio. Reaching out to meet him halfway, she took the small black object, noting its significant heft despite its size.

As she fiddled with the radio's power dial, she murmured, "Yeah. You're telling me..."

"Hey, hey, keep that on... Just in case," the injured cop pressed before looking back at the laptop, picking up the small notebook she had taken from the other officer, Elliot.

Continuing to look over the radio as she familiarized herself with it, Claire replied with optimism she wasn't sure was entirely genuine. "I'm not gonna be around long. Once I find Chris, we're outta here."

It sounded simple enough, as long as you left out the swarm of hungry undead waiting just outside the station's front gates...

Looking away from the notebook, Marvin favored her with a curious look.

"...You're really Chris' sister?" he inquired gently, brow raised.

Looking up as she finished hooking the radio onto her belt, the youngest Redfield sibling met the officer's gaze, and saw something in his expression that made her body tense up.

"Yeah," she confirmed, trying to keep the sudden, desperate hope from leaking into her voice before inquiring further. "Why? Do you know something?"

Glancing back at the notebook, Marvin nodded, and Claire's heart froze at his next sentence. "Yeah. He's on vacation... Europe, I think. Left weeks ago."

"..._Vacation?_" Claire echoed, voice numb.

Marvin looked back up at her, his brow furrowing at her strained expression as she struggled to process this revelation.

_Europe?! **Weeks ago?!**_

"That's... That's great news," she managed, even as her mind struggled over this latest development.

Vacation. Chris was on _vacation..._ In _Europe,_ of all places. Halfway across the world, as far as he could possibly be from the nightmare Raccoon City had become. Her prior concerns for his safety now seemed utterly pointless...

_I came all this way for nothing... And Tony followed me. I dragged both of us into this hell on Earth the city's become. And even if we somehow get out of here alive, I'll be no closer to finding Chris than I was before..._

Marvin's voice pulled Claire back to reality, and away from her useless self-pity. "Well, I've got more for you..." The officer was back on the pages she had found the drawings in, his bloodied fingers tracing the thin lines of ink as he spoke. "Looks like there might be a way out through this secret passageway..."

The policeman extended his hand out, allowing her to take the notebook back. The young woman suppressed a grimace at the bloody fingerprints left behind by him, the older man suddenly gasping and groaning as he clutched at his wound, his eyes scrunching closed, jaw grinding down as if he was vainly trying to keep himself from screaming in the horrible pain he was no doubt in.

Quickly stuffing the notebook back in her hip pouch, Claire moved closer to the officer, speaking gently as she did. "Hey... Hey, we should probably get you to a hospital."

There were plenty of medical supply boxes left scattered about in the Main Hall, but the young college student knew next to nothing about even basic first aid, though judging by the size of the wound and the amount of blood he'd probably lost, he would need a hospital if he had any hope of surviving.

Marvin shook his head fiercely, managing to reply with obvious effort. "Oh, no; forget about me. I can take care of myself."

Incredulous, Claire stepped back, standing straight as she firmly shook her head. "No, don't be ridiculous, you're gonna need some help-"

"_Listen,_ Claire." Marvin rounded his gaze to meet hers, his eyes firm and unwavering, silencing her instantly. "_Save yourself..._ So you can see your brother again."

The officer winced again, the effort of speaking over the younger woman seeming to drain what little strength he was able to summon. Inhaling deeply, Marvin extended his arm out, pointing towards the stairs past the Goddess Statue.

"Now, I need you to go up to the second floor, and go straight for the Lion Statue just up these stairs."

Claire blinked, confused by the man's sudden instruction. "What? Why do you-"

"Trust me," he interjected with another pained grimace. "When you see the statue, look in Elliot's notebook. You'll find the first key we need to open that secret passage under the statue here."

Unsure, but complying with a nod, Claire turned around and started up the stairs, arriving at the second floor in moments. She spotted the Lion Statue her new companion had spoken of: a towering, aged, bronze beast looming over her, mouth open in a fierce snarl, one massive paw raised atop a large shield. The statue was surrounded on both sides by large piles of various furniture, and other objects for whatever reason, and the young college student stepped closer to better study the statue.

As she approached it, she noticed at the base of the statue, where the lion stood atop the pedestal, were three slots made of marble, two of them bearing the image of dual-faced fishes, and a bow and arrow on the last. Frowning, Claire reached down to touch one of the slots, and to her surprise, she felt it give way slightly, moving as she dragged the flat of her finger over it. Blinking, she pulled her hand back, reaching for her hip pouch for the notebook as Marvin had told her to do.

"What in the world?... Why is something like this in a police station?" she asked herself, her voice just above a whisper.

Flipping through the pages of the notebook, she found the drawing of the Goddess Statue depicting the secret passageway out of the station, and turned the page. The young woman's grey blue eyes blinked before widening in shock at what she saw on the two pages.

Three more drawings, depicting a maiden holding a water jug, a unicorn with a hoof atop another shield, and the very Lion Statue she now stood in front of. Colored in the maiden's abdomen and in the centers of the shields of both unicorn and lion were red circles. Under each of the drawings were oblong boxes depicting different symbols, three in each one.

Realization struck Claire instantaneously. Still holding the notebook with her left hand, the young woman reached out with her right, placing her index and middle finger on the left slot of the lion statue. Dragging them down, she watched in amazement as the slot rolled over, turning the fish head into a maiden's, followed by a bird's, then finally a lion's head, matching the one drawn in the notebook.

That sight made her fingers move faster over the center one, turning it from a from a fish head to a reef, and the last from bow and arrow to eagle with outstretched wings, both matching the symbols drawn in the notebook. No sooner had she finished turning the last slot to its appropriate spot did Claire hear a heavy metallic *_click_* inches away from her. Snapping her gaze up, she watched in astonishment as the front of the lion's shield slid away, revealing a copper medallion, with a roaring lion's face engraved at its center, the size of her palm.

Gingerly, believing it might somehow slip away if she grabbed it too hastily, the young woman pulled the heavy item out of the shield, staring at in disbelief. Looking from the medallion back to the notebook, it finally hit Claire that the red circles were meant to represent one of the very medallions she was now holding.

Once she had all three, they could get out of the station!

_But... that means there's still two more... They could be anywhere in this station. Anywhere at all._

The Raccoon City Police Station was a huge building with three floors, and dozens of rooms on a single floor alone. The other medallions could be anywhere in the station. Despair loomed over Claire for a moment, but another thought quickly banished it.

_Marvin. He knew about this one, so he might know where the other two are,_ the rational part of her mind rationalized, prevailing over her earlier despair.

With that thought, she quickly placed the notebook back in her pouch, and made her way back down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Marvin was still sitting down, hunched over slightly, a slight sweat now beading his forehead. When Claire finished descending the stairs, he looked in her direction, but said nothing.

Staying silent herself, the girl walked in front of the Goddess Statue, and in seconds, found what she was looking for. Three open indentations at the base of the statue itself, at level with the young woman's face. Raising her right hand up, she slipped the Lion Medallion into the open slot on the right.

The heavy medal fit perfectly in the hole with a soft metallic *_clink._* A loud sound of shifting stone broke the quiet calm of the hall. Flinching and stepping back, Claire watched with wide eyes as the very base of the Goddess Statue sunk into the floor with a kick-up of dust, exposing a row of metal bars, through which she could see a gated door waiting only a few feet away, but blocked off for the moment.

Behind her, Marvin breathed a sigh of relief, his pained expression melting away into a small smile. "So Elliot was right..." he mused aloud.

"Yeah," Claire nodded in affirmation before turning to face the wounded officer. "But we're not out of here yet. Do you know where the other two statues are?"

Marvin nodded, reaching out with his left hand to tap a few keys on the laptop's keyboard. With a slight jerk of his head, he bid Claire over, the young woman complying by stepping closer, her view drawn to the glowing screen. Once again, a map of the station was up on the screen, depicted by blue boxes surrounded by white lines. The officer raised a single bloodstained finger, pointing towards the largest box on the left side of the map.

"From the Library here, you can go to the Lounge..." He lowered his finger to a smaller box just under the library, "here. The Unicorn Statue is right there, and that's where the next medallion is."

"The last statue, the Maiden..." He pressed a key on the laptop and the map switched to a new diagram, this one depicting much larger blocks than the previous, but fewer in number, "is here." Marvin once more pointed towards the left side of the map, at a very large room surrounded by thinner, longer boxes on the map. "In the West Storage Room, where we've stored some of the displays from the station's museum days."

At that, the collegiate girl blinked, momentarily surprised by this little unusual fact. "Wait, the police station... used to be a _museum?_"

At her confusion, Marvin chuckled, though it sounded slightly pained, his grip on his wound spasming slightly. "Still is, to an extent, with the amount of art the chief wasted our budget on..."

Claire's expression went from confused to incredulous. "Who turns a museum into a police station?" she asked, looking at the police officer.

He only shrugged, saying nothing else, and leaving the question in the air. Deciding she'd focus on that particular tidbit later, the younger biker girl turned her attention back to the laptop map, looking at the box representing the West Storage Room.

"So, my best route is to head for the Library. And if I'm reading this map right..." Her grey-blue eyes turned upward, her head craning back as she peered up at the balcony walkway just overhead, directly above both of them. "There should be a door leading to the Library right up there."

Marvin nodded, grimacing as he did. "You're right. Unfortunately, that door to the Library is locked."

The woman blinked, looking away from the computer and back at Marvin. "Locked? Why's it locked? Don't you have a key?"

The cop shook his head, his face twitching as he fought the urge to let another painful spasm wrack his aching body. He closed his eyes, and inhaled harshly.

Fresh sweat dotted his forehead as he inhaled sharply before replying, his voice leveled but strained. "We had to seal off... certain areas of the station once the... zombies got inside. A number of doors that needed the... the special keys... were closed off, keeping the dead away... from the living."

Claire listened silently, her brow furrowing, eyes filled with concern as she watched the man struggle to just explain.

The officer inhaled deeply once again, seeming to regain his composure, and opened his eyes to meet hers as he continued. "There was only a dozen or so of those doors, though, so we locked some of the others with chains, or barricaded certain hallways... They didn't do much, but they held back the dead, and that was all that mattered. You're gonna have to take the long way to get to the Library. You'll need to head to the West Wing through the second floor hallway, and... and then cut down the corridor, by the showers... But I can't guarantee you won't run into... trouble."

Clutching his bloody side with his left arm, Marvin pushed himself back onto his feet, still hunching over as his right hand grasped something from the bench he had been sitting on. "Now... you'll probably need this."

He extended his hand out, and Claire saw he was holding a long combat knife, back handle sticking out as it was still in its sheathe. The girl shook her head, taking a step back as the officer tried to move it closer to her. She had her own weapon; she wasn't about to deprive Marvin of one he may need later.

"No, I'm not taking that. You're gonna need-"

"_Shhhh..._" The older man gently hushed her, stepping closer, and slipping the knife into her hand before she could protest or move away.

Meeting her eyes, the intensity she saw in them kept her quiet as the officer continued. "And be careful... If you see one of those things - no matter who they were - you _can't_ hesitate," he stressed, eyes closing as he shook his head before going on. "Take 'em out if you can... or you run."

With that ominous warning delivered, it seemed to use up all of Marvin's remaining strength. He collapsed back down onto the bench with a pained shudder and gasp, his inhales deep, but strained, his face twisted with agony as his eyes snapped closed. His grip on his wound tightened in a seemingly futile effort to relieve the pain consuming him. Claire took another step back, the knife still held in her right hand, her eyes watching the policeman with a mixture of worry and helpless pity. As the officer got his breathing under control, along with the pain it seemed, she squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath of her own.

She couldn't afford to waste anymore time. She had to find those medallions, and get them both out of here. With that, she slipped the knife's sheathe onto her belt just below the small of her back, the handle just a few centimeters away from her revolver's holster for a quick and easy grab.

Turning ahead, Claire looked back at Marvin one final time. His brown eyes met hers, and he nodded once. That was all she needed.

Returning the nod, the young college student moved ahead, her footsteps quiet in the massive hall. Heading for the entrance to the station's West Wing, Claire saw that the barred gate for this way was down as well, the large metal box containing the switch to raise and lower it wrapped in dull yellow electric tape.

Well, even if Marvin had kept the knife, she wouldn't have gotten far without it.

Unsheathing the short, sharp blade, the girl slipped the tip in between the gap of the box's cover meeting the edge, and deftly slid it down, sheering right through the tape like paper. Pulling the cover open, she yanked the large switch down with a hard pull. The dim red light turned a bright green with a cheery *_beep,_* and then the heavy metal gate began retracting upward.

Slipping under the gate once it was halfway up, Claire found herself in the Reception Room separated from the office by a glass window. From what she could see through the window, it was too dark to make out much besides the officers' desks, and nothing was moving in the heavy shadows, alive or undead. Moving ahead, she rounded the corner just behind a wooden display stand-

-and came to a dead stop when she saw the heavy splashes of blood on the floor... and the long, jagged gashes on the wall. The blood she was getting used to, as horrible as that sounded, but those long, ragged scratches on the wall... _Those_ were new. Approaching the wall, Claire raised her fingers to trace the deep gashes.

"Did the zombies do this... or something else?" she wondered aloud in a faint whisper.

Walking corpses eager to eat her flesh was one thing. Something with claws long enough and sharp enough to leave cuts like this was something she _didn't_ want to even think about, much less run into. Forcing her eyes away from the claw marks, Claire moved towards the door only a few steps away.

Turning the knob, she opened the door, stepping into another long hallway plunged in darkness. Pulling out the flashlight she had found, Redfield turned it on, sweeping the beam around. Nothing of importance caught her eye. Only a lone radiator, and a pulley cart filled with more boxes.

Advancing forward, she almost started for the open hallway to her right, only to see it was blocked off by more chairs, and other heavy objects barring her off. Facing forward, the young woman resumed her trek, her steps light, making as little noise as possible just in case something was lurking around the upcoming turn. As she advanced, her light's beam swept over more boarded windows, and another cop's body slumped against the left wall-

-when a faint crackling caught her attention. Stopping, Claire listened for a moment, inclining her head just a bit closer. Over the hissing pop of crackles, she could just make out words.

_"This is 73-Bird – for rescue."_

Blinking, she moved closer to the officer's body, the hissing crackles growing louder, words sometimes rising through the static like noise.

_"-heading east- River."_

As she began to crouch down to get a better look at the body, the woman saw a radio hooked on the front of his uniform... and blood all over his face. Frowning, she leaned closer, her attention entirely on the corpse now, no longer really paying attention to the radio transmission.

_"Touchdown at R.P.D. – minutes."_

The voice on the radio started to repeat the message, but by that point Claire's attention was entirely on the face of the dead cop. Switching the flashlight to her right hand, with her left she grasped his forehead, the skin ice cold and clammy, and pushed the head up and back. The limp skull rolled under her touch, blood dripping from between his open jaws... which had been unnaturally sliced to ribbons, along with most of his neck, exposing red, slimy sinew of tendons barely holding together, the dead man's mouth cut almost completely open from ear to ear.

Disgust and pity roiled through the young woman, not to mention nausea at the overpowering smell of blood and rot.

"Oh, god! Poor guy..." she whispered, looking into his filmy eyes before pulling her hand back, hastily wiping it against her shorts to get the lingering feel of his cold skin off-

-when she heard something, a soft sound of movement, followed by something metallic rolling.

Gasping a surprised "What?!" Claire snapped around, back on her feet in a split-second, her flashlight sweeping down the hallway, towards the origin of the sound.

"Who's there?!" she demanded.

Silence, save for the fading crackle of the dead man's radio.

Claire's eyes searched for the source of the sound, or for anything that could have made the noise. She nearly did a double-take when she saw another cop's body seemingly hanging from nothing in midair. When she risked a glance upwards, she regretted it almost immediately upon seeing the poor bastard wasn't hanging... his entire mouth hung open, a long, broken support pole jammed through it... from _behind._

Looking away, fighting the urge to vomit, the young woman drew her revolver, leveling it out with her flashlight, and started forward. Easing around the dangling body's legs, the college student saw a door to her right. Slipping her flashlight at the junction where her neck and shoulder met, she reached out for handle. To her disappointment, she found it locked... but then her eyes narrowed when she spotted the elaborate green club insignia above the lock.

_Is this one of those doors Marvin was talking about?_ she wondered, before gripping the flashlight and turning forward again, revolver half-way raised. One thing at a time, and she needed to find whatever made that sound.

Moving forward again, Redfield made her way towards the open junction of the hallway, passing more boxes as she did... and noting more claw-like markings along the wall. These ones were cleaner-looking, three long gashes mere centimeters apart. Swallowing, suddenly feeling colder, the young woman tensed for a moment, before making a quick dash, revolver snapping up-

-and finding nothing, save more wooden boards over an open window, cool rain splashing on the floor. Blinking, Claire lowered her gun, shivering again as a sudden strong breeze slipped through the gaps in the boards... and felt something brush against her boot. Yelping, the girl flinched back, gun aiming down... and resisted the urge to slap herself.

It was just an empty tin can, which explained the earlier sound. The wind had blown over it, causing it to roll and rattle across the floor. She was the only thing in the hall as far as she could see.

Exhaling heavily, urging her racing heart and rattled nerves to calm down, Claire peered down the long corridor, seeing another right hand turn several feet away. Advancing, she continued onward, passing more boarded windows wrapped with yellow 'Do Not Cross' police tape, some with the glass intact, others broken, her boots crushing various shards as she made her way ahead. As she neared the end of the corridor, the youngest Redfield realized it was just a little bit brighter now, and spotted a working streetlight just outside the boarded window in front of her-

-with the light being partially cut off as a zombie, a woman with short brown hair wearing a white dress shirt stained with blood, rounded from nowhere, slamming its rotting hands against the glass with a hungry growl, its clouded eyes locked on the college girl. Giving the ghoul a glare, Claire turned away from it, ignoring the continued beating of rotting flesh against glass as she walked forward a little way. Passing two broken windows with bent bars over them, rainwater having made a puddle on the floor, the young biker was aggravated to discover another impromptu barricade between herself and where she needed to go.

A glance to her right revealed a set of red double doors. Checking the handle, she was relieved to find that these were unlocked, and opened one, stepping out of the cold corridor, and into the new, larger room. As she was about to close the door behind her, Claire froze when she heard glass shattering, followed by the enraged snarling of the woman zombie as her arms desperately clawed out from the gaps of the wooden boards, her bloody fingers grasping at nothing but empty air.

"...Thank god they can't get past everything," she muttered to herself, closing the door, and cutting off the sound of the zombie's hungry groans.

Turning away from the doors, she took the new room in. It was a large, open space, with dozens of chairs situated about, some vending machines in the corner to her right, a table not too far away from them with dozens of papers scattered across it, along with an old coffee maker, a green chalkboard set in front of all the chairs with more tables, an American flag hanging off the wall, and another door to the board's right, just past another potted fern and the table. She quickly concluded it was a meeting or operations room of the R.P.D.'s officers. Claire was half-tempted to route through the papers for more information on the outbreak, but resisted. She wouldn't being doing her eyes any favors squinting in the dark with only a flashlight for illumination.

Moving towards the door, Claire stopped just as she was arm's length from it, sighing in aggravation when she saw another chain was wrapped around the door handle, preventing her from opening it.

"_Great,_" she muttered, looking around the room and seeing no other way out save the doors she had come through. "Now what?"

With a sigh, she rubbed her forehead, the mounting frustrations threatening to give her a headache. She briefly contemplated trying to remove some of the blockage from one of the blockades, but decided against it, noting it would take too long, and the whole thing could fall on top of her. And if she was incapacitated or killed, what good would she be to Marvin then?

Claire spared another glance at the chained door, wondering if she should try shooting one of the links off to break the whole thing, though she recalled Chris' warning of such a thing, her brother having once explained that despite what movies and TV had taught her, shooting a lock was the last thing you should consider, since the bullet could ricochet back on the shooter.

She was just about to draw her revolver and risk it when she happened to notice a faint line of light to her left, just out of the corner of her eye. Turning and looking up, the college student couldn't resist the smile that curled on her lips when she spotted an open window just above a stack of crates, a loose piece of yellow police tape hanging down. With a quick climb onto the crates, and then a heft and a pull, the girl managed to slip up and around, letting herself fall onto her feet without too much trouble.

Claire found herself on the opposite side of the barricade that had forced her into the operations room. She wrinkled her nose, and fought down a disgusted groan when she spotted the splattering trail of blood leading to the lone body just next to the pile of furniture and other objects used to block the turn. Turning away from it, the young woman peered ahead-

-and froze where she stood when she saw a rather heavyset zombie in an officer's uniform mindlessly slamming its blood-soaked hands against another vending machine, the one across from it still working and glowing brightly, explaining the light, while bathing the undead in pale, eerie brightness that only seemed to make its gray pallor somehow slimier-looking. Swallowing, Claire risked a step back, eyes never leaving the zombie as it continued to beat on the machine like an irate customer who's snack hung ever so slightly on the hook. It would have been funnier if wasn't for the fact that if the undead spotted her, it would most definitely try to snack on her instead.

The young crack shot drew her revolver from its holster, but didn't raise it, as she was hesitant to try shooting the zombie from where she was, which was a good twenty-plus feet. She wasn't a certified sharpshooter like Chris or Tony, not to mention she was down to five bullets, so she really couldn't afford to waste the ammo. The college girl stood there for several moments, indecisive, but never taking her eyes off the ghoul.

Finally, she came to a decision. A risky one.

_It's completely focused on the vending machine. If I move quickly but quietly, I can probably sneak past it._

Sounded simple enough. Now she just had to convince her feet to move. After a deep inhale and exhale, Claire managed to finally get herself moving, taking each step just slow enough to not make any loud footsteps, but also just quick enough to where she wasn't inching at a snail's pace. The zombie never once even paused in its mindless beating of the vending machine, allowing the young woman to round the corner, her advancement slowing just enough to note another bloody cop's body on the ground just by the door to the office she had passed by on her way.

When she finally rounded the corner and arrived into a large open hallway where she saw some stairs up ahead, the girl allowed herself to move just a bit faster, ignoring yet another zombie that was beating on a barred window. Stopping at the base of the stairs, Claire spied another door under stairway to her right, and made a dash for it, finding it unlocked. to her relief. She slipped inside, turning the lock as she soon as she closed the door behind her. With a sigh, she sagged against it, running a hand through her hair as she willed her racing heart to slow.

_If the zombies don't get me, all this tension **will.** Jesus... And here I used to make fun of the characters in zombie movies for panicking so easily._

Late night creature-features hadn't prepared her anything like this. But she was almost there. She just had to go up the stairs, and she'd be on her way to the medallions. Claire decided she would stay in this small room for another moment to catch her breath. The young college student holstered her revolver, but stilled her hand when she felt the back of her palm brush the radio.

Unhooking it from her belt, Claire pondered over the handheld walkie-talkie, wondering if she should check in with Marvin. She needed to let him rest and conserve his strength, but she also needed more information if she meant to go any further.

With that decided, she pressed down on the transmit button, speaking into the communicator. "Marvin, you there? It's Claire, over."

She released the button, prompting a crackle of static. The collegiate girl waited for a beat that seemed to stretch on for too long.

But to her relief, the radio crackled again before the policeman's voice filtered through. _"I'm here, Claire. What's the sitrep, over?"_

Exhaling in relief, the woman responded, "I'm in a small room just under the stairs to the second floor in the West Wing. I've only seen a few zombies, mostly from outside banging on the windows, but I avoided one just outside the office. I'm trying to conserve ammo. Where do I go from here, over?"

Another hissing crackle, a slightly longer pause before the officer replied. _"You're in the dark room where we- where we **used** to process photographic evidence. All you'll need to do from there is go up the stairs, and head for the door just past the steps going up to the third floor. From that door, head straight, and you'll be in the upper West Wing. Just walk straight for a bit, hook a left, and you'll see the door to the lounge where the Unicorn Statue is. There'll be another door to the statue's left that'll get you in the library, where you'll just need to go up the stairs, and head for the farthest door on the left side to get into the storeroom... If you want, you can stop by the S.T.A.R.S. Office when you pass it on the way to there, and pick up that letter Chris sent to Jill. Over."_

Claire blinked, her grey-blue eyes widening.

_A letter? Chris sent a letter?_

"Chris sent a letter? Does the envelope still have the return address on it?!... Uh, over?" she hastily asked, barely remembering proper radio procedure in her sudden excitement.

A shorter pause, before Marvin's voice broke through the hiss of radio static. _"Should be, unless Valentine threw it away... Hey, I just remembered. If you're hurting for ammo, there should be a box of nine millimeter rounds in one of the lockers in that room you're in. Contact me again if you need anything else. Over and out."_

Claire nodded, responding, "10-4. Thanks, Marvin. See you soon. Over and out."

With that done, the girl slipped the radio back onto her belt before feeling around the wall, her fingers pressing down on a light switch, illuminating the dark room, and letting her see better. Indeed, to her immediate right was a set of steel gray lockers, just a few feet from a desk covered in photo processing materials. Opening the first locker, Claire smiled when she saw the familiar sight of a small red box of handgun ammo.

Snatching it up, Claire rattled the box lightly, her smile falling when she only heard and felt a light rattling. Walking over to the desk, she slid the flaps of the box open and poured it out to the side. A handful of parabellum rounds spilled out, and a quick count gave her a total of ten extra rounds.

"Better than nothing... Not that I have any right to complain. I'm lucky there's even a single spare bullet left in this place..." she concluded, carefully putting the rounds in her side pouch.

Redrawing her revolver, squaring her shoulders and inhaling deeply, Claire unlocked the door and stepped back outside into the stairway. The young crack shot found her nose crinkling again. The smell of blood, decay, and rot was everywhere in the station, but the dark room she had just been in hadn't smelled as bad as the rest of the West Wing. It wasn't necessarily fresh air, but it was not as tainted as the air outside of it. Exhaling and slowly inhaling through her mouth, Redfield made for the stairs, not even reacting when the ghoul beating on the window snarled hungrily, the glass beginning to crack from its strikes.

As soon as she cleared the flight, taking the steps two at a time, Claire found another officer's body, this one a woman with dark hair, just as bloody and mutilated looking as the last one she passed. She paused to look over the corpse, noting the steel shutter blocking the entryway to the left. Remembering Marvin telling her to find the shower room and go straight from there, the young woman moved past the body, planning to keep straight when she heard a gurgling rasp, just above her.

Snapping her revolver and flashlight up, Claire spotted another zombie, this one setting its filmy eyes right on her, staggering down the stairs leading from the third floor. Judging by what she could see of its clothes under the gore it was covered it, this zombie had been a civilian, like her. Now it was a lumbering corpse looking for a fresh meal.

"I'm sorry..." the redhead whispered, before squeezing the trigger.

A loud *_BAM_* came from the revolver, followed by a brief flash of fire issuing from the barrel. The zombie's head snapped back in a spray of blood, the body falling to a heap, limply shuffling down a few steps, its limbs askew.

Claire kept the gun on the corpse, not completely convinced it was totally dead now, seeing the first zombie she had shot had taken two bullets to the head before seemingly staying down for good. She counted to ten in her head before finally lowering the gun, but kept her eyes on the corpse as she walked ahead.

When she spotted the lone door just past a cleaner's cart and another locker, as well as the small sign marked 'Men's Locker Room,' Claire started forward... only to stop, her gaze falling on another barricade of various furniture blocking her path to the next hallway. Muttering a curse, she holstered her revolver before grabbing the radio off of her belt, and pressing the transmit button down.

"Marvin? We've got a problem. There's a barricade blocking off the way to the Upper Hallway to the Lounge, over." She released the button, and waited for a response.

The walkie crackled and hissed before the policeman's voice filtered through. _"Aw, dammit! I completely forgot about that one... I'm sorry, Claire. Over."_

Pressing the transmit button again, Claire replied gently, figuring the toll of his injury, plus his obvious exhaustion, had caused that fact to slip from his mind. "It's fine, Marvin. I just need to find another way around... if there is one. Over."

She released the button, looking over the barricade again, once more considering trying to remove the various objects blocking her off when the radio crackled again, Marvin's voice speaking up, his tone both intense... and bewildered.

_"Claire, head into the locker room next to you, over."_

Blinking, the woman looked at the radio in confusion before inquiring, "The locker room? Why, uh, over?"

Another crackle of static, before the wounded officer replied cryptically, _"You need to see this, over."_

Giving the walkie another bewildered expression, Claire turned, looking back at the lone door by the custodial cart. With a shrug, she clipped the radio back onto her belt and did as the man had told her, moving quickly for the door.

Almost instantly upon opening the door, she was besieged by a surge of warm, moist air, accompanied by the familiar patter of showers running, but only just barely hearing the noise over the harsh hissing rush of steam. Stepping into the small locker room, and closing the door behind her, the young student walked further in, minding the small benches in the center of the room. But upon spotting the source of the sound and warm air in the room, she could only stare in utter bafflement.

"Well, that's... convenient... And weird."

Weird was putting it lightly. Between her and the shower stalls that should have had a solid wall between them, was a smashed wall, obscured by a rushing current of heavy steam. Even from almost four feet away, Claire could feel the heat radiating from the rushing air, and that killed any ideas of just trying to run through it. She would be scalded alive.

Reaching for her radio, the young woman pressed the transmit button again, opening the channel back to Marvin's communicator. "I'm guessing there should be a solid wall, and an un-ruptured boiler in here, right? Over."

A crackle, followed by a pained chuckle from Marvin before he replied. _"Yeah, usually. But I noticed it when the camera feed changed. Looks like someone did some demolition without the chief's approval; screw 'im. But it does give you another way to get to that hallway, over."_

Claire eyed the intense steam billowing from the busted boiler, cautiously extending the palm of her hand towards it, before quickly yanking the limb back.

"Now we just need to find a way to turn off the steam," she spoke into the radio before her grey-blue eyes fell on a pipe with a missing valve. She pressed down on the transmit button again. "Any chance there's a spare valve lying around somewhere close by? Over."

A beat and a single crackling hiss of static before the cop replied, _"No idea, but it can't hurt to check. Look around the third floor. There was some construction getting done up there; renovations. If not a valve, maybe a wrench, or some other kind of tool you can use to turn off the steam. Over."_

Giving a quick nod and reply of, "Okay, third floor it is. Over and out," Claire was moving towards the door again. Her hand reached for the handle, giving it a quick turn and pull-

-letting a wave of decay, an overpowering stench of rotting meat overcome her as the zombie she had shot earlier lunged for her, its jaws gnashing, spittle flying as it moaned in hunger, its hands snatching her by the shoulders. Claire screamed as the corpse's head reared back before snapping forward, its teeth going for her _throat_-

A sickening crunch of bone punctuated by the slick squish of flesh stopped the zombie mid lunge as Claire jammed the knife Marvin had given her several inches into its temple. With a dying gurgle, the zombie pitched backwards, its body smashing into the janitor's cart, spilling a wet mop and dirty water everywhere, dark clots of blood mixing with it a second later. Gasping harshly, Claire's hand scrambled for her handgun that she instantly thrust out, the shaking barrel mostly centered on the still body.

_**Wasn't dead!** It **wasn't** dead, and it almost...! It **almost...!**_

Forcing her shaking hand to still, Redfield quickly moved towards the body, leaning and closing her eyes as her free hand grasped the knife's hilt. After a few hard tugs, she yanked the weapon out of the corpse's skull. Disgusted, resisting the urge to vomit once again, the girl quickly rinsed the blade off in the dirty water, dried it off on one of the few dry spots of the dead man's shirt, and sheathed the blade again. The young woman rose back up quickly, her revolver still locked on the body, though she was almost for sure it was dead for good now.

"Too close... _Too close..._" she whispered to herself.

From now on, she was putting two bullets in the head of everybody she saw after this, dead or undead.

With that decided, Claire quickly made for the stairs, barely giving the female cop's body in the far corner a passing glance - Had her arms been by her sides or on her lap when she first saw her? - before making her way up the stairs, two at a time, revolver still out as she opened the chamber, expending the two used cartridges for two new bullets.

When she arrived at the top of the stairs, the woman stopped, taking in her new surroundings. It was a long, balcony-styled walkway, with more boxes, a long desk, and lockers at the end. Past the lockers was another barricaded wall... but to the right of the lockers, a bright light cast a long shadow of a person's head and chest, the individual in question completely still.

Claire stared at the long shadow, her eyes darting from it to the right side where it was coming from, as she slowly approached, revolver out. Stopping once she reached the corner, she inhaled deeply, steadying her arms as best as she could, then quickly rounded around, weapon up and ready to fire-

-before lowering it almost instantly, the young woman blinking, confusion written on her face that quickly became bemused relief.

Inside the room she found several bookcases lined with heavy tomes, most of them spilled across the floor, and a rather expensive-looking wooden desk where a lit lamp rested. A small mannequin was next to it, having cast the faux shadow of a person standing still.

Claire holstered her revolver, her eyes sweeping over the room as she stepped further in, her gaze lingering on the jagged edges of the wall she passed leading in. It looked like a team of construction workers had torn it down with sledgehammers, but the concrete dust lining the floor and spilled books suggested it had happened recently... _Very_ recently.

Arriving at the desk, the redheaded college girl paused, frowning when she spotted a long metallic object just laying on the center of the desk's top. Picking it up to get a better look, she saw it was an old-styled key, just slightly longer than her middle finger. The most interesting thing about was the dark green spade design at the very end of it.

Tracing the spade, Claire wondered aloud, "Fancy-looking key... But what does it go to?"

She remembered Marvin's earlier words about certain doors needing special keys. Someone must have left this one here after locking all the doors it went to. The only door that came to mind for a key like this, though, was that one she had passed with a club insignia etched above the handle. Shrugging, deciding she'd need this key sooner of later, Claire slipped it into her pouch, and turned for the door in the corner when her radio crackled, her fellow survivor's voice rising from the static, sounding just a little worried.

_"Claire? Claire, you there? Over."_

Unhooking the walkie-talkie from her belt, the girl in question held it up to her mouth, and pressed the transmit button, responding, "I'm here, Marvin. What's up? Over."

A pause, and when the officer spoke again, there was obvious relief in his words. _"Lost sight of you in the camera feed when you went up to the third floor... They never got around to installing 'em up there... Where are you? Over."_

The young biker girl moved for the door as she responded, "I'm inside some kind of office space. Sorry for worrying you, over."

As she reached for the door handle, Marvin replied, this time sounding confused. _"Office? That's impossible. There's nothing but a solid wall between it and the top of that stairway you were on. Over."_

Claire shrugged, turning the handle while talking. "Don't know what else to tell you. The wall was smashed when I got up here, but it looks like I can reach that Storage Room where the Maiden Statue's supposed to- _What the fuck?!_"

The radio dropped with a heavy rattle of metal and plastic meeting wood on the floor below as Claire stepped into a new, narrow hallway, a lone window at the very end of the opposite wall... where something large, red, and inhuman-looking scuttled across so fast, she almost wondered if she really saw it... Until she heard a growl deeper than any of the zombies, under-toning the sound of shattering glass. The young woman had her revolver out and in front of her as she stood perfectly still, while at her feet, the radio hissed and crackled, Marvin's voice frantically calling out for her.

_"**Claire?!** Claire, what happened?! Claire, **respond,** dammit!"_

Ignoring the wounded officer's voice, Claire kept her handgun out, both hands gripping it so tightly, it shook, her wide eyes locked on the window. But after several pounding heartbeats, nothing else moved, and she quickly bent down to snatch the radio back up, holding it with her left hand while she kept the gun out in her right.

Hitting the transmit button, she spoke quietly into the communicator. "Marvin... I just saw something."

The officer didn't wait for her to elaborate any further before inquiring back, his voice strained. _"What? What did you see?"_

Unable to look away from the window, the woman spoke again, her voice just barely above whisper. "Something... Something crawled across a window... It was... big, red, and... slimy-looking..."

The radio crackled harshly, making her wince and pull the device back. Marvin's voice managed to break through the static. _"Claire, forget about the medallions. You're not safe there. Come back to the Main Hall. We'll figure out what to do once you're back here. Over."_

Managing to still her trembling hands, Claire shook her head as she retorted, "No, no, I'm okay, now! It's gone... whatever it was. I've gotta be close to the Library. I'm in a narrow corridor just outside that office space. Just tell me where to go from here. Over."

The radio crackled, the policeman not replying for several beats. And when he finally did, his voice carried both annoyance and impression. _"Guess that hard head runs in the family..."_

To that, Claire couldn't fight a smile. "Alright."

Marvin went on. _"The West Storage Room is just up ahead. You'll find the Maiden Statue in there. From there, there's only one other door: the one to the Library. Just head down to the stairs from there, hook a left, and you'll find the Lounge where the Unicorn Statue is. Over."_

Claire nodded, responding and somewhat surprised at the sudden confidence in her voice, "I'll be back with both in five minutes, tops. Over and out."

With that, she slipped the radio back onto her belt, and made her way down the corridor, her revolver only partially lowered, her grey-blue eyes lingering on the window for a moment when she saw faint scratch lines across the glass.

_Familiar-looking_ scratch marks...

Unwilling to linger, just in case whatever the hell that thing was decided to crawl back by, Claire turned left, spotting the door she needed to go through, but paused when she saw a stack of heavy boxes further down. Giving them a quick glance, seeing nothing of interest, the woman moved to the door, gripping the handle, and turning it, stepping inside the storage room. As she stepped inside entirely, she exhaled a heavy breath she hadn't known she was holding, before taking in her new surroundings.

There were dozens of boxes, and several stained white tarps carelessly tossed over various bookcases and other bits of furniture. The smell of mildew and dust was stronger than the ever-present smell of blood and decay, which was something of a relief. Pulling out her flashlight, Claire flicked the lamp on, and swept the beam around, looking for the statue, and anything else that might be useful. Advancing further, the college student resisted a groan of disgust at the sight of huge mounds of mold along one of the walls and headed left, spotting the door to the library between two bookcases... and a dead man hanging limply from the ceiling above, clotted blood staining his shirt and face.

Moving past the body - nearly screaming when it suddenly shifted and fell a little ways, legs somehow managing to hang on to the ceiling above - Claire made her way into the deeper part of the storage room... and found her steps slowing when she saw a series of metal-barred fences between her... and the Maiden Statue.

Lowering her flashlight with an aggravated sigh, the young woman stepped closer, peering closely at the bars, looking for a gap just wide enough for her to squeeze through. Her eyes lingered on the two bodies inside the gated area, noting that they were covered in blood, and what little exposed skin she could see had long slashing marks on both of them. Frowning, she dragged her light over to the back of the room, before her beam found solid wooden boards blocking the only open space between her and the gates.

Approaching the bars, Claire blinked when she saw what looked like two long pieces of modelling clay wrapped in plastic, held taped to the boards by yellow electric tape. Peering closer at them, the crack shot's eyes widened when she realized these were not clay bricks at all when she spotted one letter and a number printed on the plastic. A letter and number she _never_ wanted to see side-by-side. She took several steps back, the flashlight beam still on the bricks.

The _very dangerous_ C4 bricks.

_Why the hell would someone put **C4** inside a police station?! Where the hell did they even find it-_

Her train of thought was interrupted when her backside collided with something solid. Whirling around, the young woman saw she had backed up into a small table, where a sheet of paper was laying next to a small nylon pack. Blinking, Claire picked up the parchment, the flashlight illuminating the scribbled words.

**Damn those corporate assholes! They cut me off! After all I've done for them! But if that's how it's gonna be, so be it. I'm gonna have a little fun of my own as the world goes to shit.**

**I boarded all those filthy pigs up in a steel pen, and set some C4. All I gotta do is detonate it and it's "sayonara, suckers!"**

**But it's no fun if it's over too soon, so maybe I'll give that one raving loon something to really squeal about.**

**Yeah, maybe I'll give him a little toy and tell him, "Kill the guy next to you and I'll spare the others." I wonder what he'll do.**

**You yell about "justice" and "pride" but how many times did you go against me, your own superior?**

**Yeah, you're such a good cop... So good you had to die.**

**Man is this fun. I need some music for this.**

Claire dropped the scrap of paper as soon as she finished reading the scribbles, her expression one of utter disgust and confusion.

_Someone... Someone locked those guys in the pen... and made them **kill each other?!** And what did he mean by 'corporate assholes?' Superior? Did a **cop** do this?!_

The collegiate woman gave the pen and C4 another look, her eyes wandering over to the statue she could see, with only the steel bars preventing her from recovering the medallion inside it. Looking away, Claire picked up the small nylon pack, and after a minute of fiddling with it, managed to hook it securely to her belt, giving her a little more space to carry anything else she may find. She decided to come back for the Maiden Medallion after she thought of a safe way of removing the explosives, and something to help her tear or cut down the wooden boards blocking the pen's entrance.

She wondered if she could just shoot it from a safe distance, set the plastique off, and get rid of the barricade, but that was even riskier than trying to shoot a locked door. It would delay her and Marvin's escape, but only by so much. Claire decided she would just have to be patient until a solution came to her, or presented itself.

Securing the small pack, Claire headed back towards the door to the library, minding the hanging body as she did, and stepped out of heavy shadows into bright, yet soft illumination. Blinking rapidly at the sudden light, the girl found herself on a balcony walkway overlooking the rather large library of the police station... but quickly discovered she wasn't alone.

There was a female zombie standing stiffly across the walkway that led towards the stairs, while a strange series of wet, crunching noises seemed to be emanating from the floor below. A quick glance over the railing confirmed the source of the sounds, and, much to the young woman's disgust, she spied another zombie eagerly tearing into a motionless corpse, tearing chunks of bloody flesh out that it devoured greedily. Looking away, fighting down her rising gorge, Claire raised her revolver, moving closer towards the female zombie to better her aim, while keeping her steps just light enough so as to not draw its attention.

Once she was halfway across the balcony, Redfield felt she was close enough, and squeezed the trigger twice. Two *_bangs_* came one after another, the two bullets slamming into the back of the zombie's skull, sending blood, bits of bone, and brain matter, along with long clumps of the woman's limp blonde hair, splattering over the green-painted walls, and a few unlucky shelves of books.

No sooner had she lowered her weapon did her radio suddenly crackle, Marvin's voice filtering through. _"Claire, it's Marvin. How fast can you get back here?"_

She blinked at both the question and the cop's tone of voice. He didn't sound panicked or urgent. If anything, he seemed distracted, as if his focus was on something else.

Removing her radio from her belt, and holding it up to her mouth as she held down the transmission button, the college girl inquired, "Why? What's up?"

Another hiss of static passed before the officer cryptically replied, _"I've got something to show you. It's important."_

Now she was deeply intrigued, since she had no idea what could possibly be so important that she had to drop her search for the medallions that would lead them to a potential escape route. But Claire recalled Marvin pointing out that there would be a door in the Library that could take her right back to the Main Hall. She'd pick up the other medallion, and be on her way back in two minutes.

Nodding, she responded into the radio, "Alright, I'm on my way," before hooking it back onto her belt.

Moving a bit quicker, she made her way for the stairs, giving the female zombie's body a quick kick to confirm it was truly dead, the corpse limply rolling with the hit to her satisfaction. Taking the stairs two at a time, she arrived by a series of tables with books and papers scattered over their surfaces, two male officers' bodies laying sprawled across the floor, their faces and necks ravaged, what little pale skin she could see covered in gore.

A quick glance behind her confirmed her exit back to the Main Hall, with a rather heavyset man's corpse laying against a smaller desk table, head low. Deciding to let the zombie still gorging itself behind the towering shelves on the room's other side alone, Claire reached for the closer door, turning the handle, and pushing it open, letting herself into the small lounge where the large statue of a unicorn sculpted from dull pink marble waited.

Smiling, Claire Redfield uttered, "_Paydirt._"

With that, she closed the door behind her, and walked towards the statue, pulling out Elliot's notebook as she did, flipping to the page with the proper symbols needed to unlock her prize. A few quick turns of the slots to a double-sided fish head, a scorpion, and then something that resembled a blowing breeze or rolling wave, and Claire heard the wonderful sound of metal shifting, and the base of the statue opened partially, allowing her to pull the hand-sized brass medal with the head of a unicorn engraved on its front out.

She couldn't resist the triumphant grin from forming on her lips. "Two down."

One more, and she and Marvin would be kissing this hellhole goodbye-

The young woman's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy flesh smacking against wood, breaking her out of her revere, and causing her to whirl around towards the suddenly shaking door. Quickly shoving the medallion into her pack, Claire drew her revolver just in time as the door burst open, the heavyset zombie she had assumed was another corpse lumbering out. She drew a bead on one of its filmy eyes as they locked onto her, the zombie groaning lowly, and starting to stagger her way.

The biker girl squeezed the trigger once, and the ghoul's head exploded in a shower of bone and blood, much to her surprise. The rotund body, now truly dead, crumpled into a limp heap only a few feet from her, blood pooling on the marble floor. Moving for the still-open door, reloading as she did, Claire headed for the other exit still hearing the noisy chewing of the other zombie, which failed to bother her anymore, since it meant that it was distracted and too content with its meal to come looking for her.

Arriving at the doorway, the auburn-haired student reached for the handle when she spotted the familiar intricate design of the lock, this one bearing a green spade insignia this time. Smiling again, rather smugly this time, the collegiate girl reached into her satchel, and produced the Spade Key she had found earlier. The key slipped easily into the opening, and with a single turn, unlocked the door.

Pushing it open, she found herself on the upper balcony of the Main Hall. A quick glance down allowed her to spot Marvin peering intensely at his laptop. Moving at a brisk jog, the young woman quickly made her way for him, and traversed down the stairs, her clicking boot heels alerting the officer to her presence.

Looking up as she approached, Officer Branagh managed a pained, smile-like grimace, his fingers tapping a few keys as he spoke. "There you are... Come here." He beckoned her closer, hitting another key as the screen changed on the laptop.

Blinking, Claire bent over to get better look as she asked, "What is it?"

"Take a look," he urged, just as she saw what he was indicating, and the young woman felt her heart soar in her chest.

There on the computer screen was another security camera feed, showing a tall man with pale hair wearing a long coat. The colors were muted, but she'd recognize those white locks and the dark coloring she knew instantly to be crimson red.

"_Tony!_ Oh my god, he made it!" she cried out jubilantly.

He was alive! He had kept his word, and found a way to the station, somehow managing to avoid the undead roaming the streets. He was here, and not a moment too soon.

Marvin gave her a curious glance before asking, "You know him?"

Unable to contain her glee, Claire replied, "Yeah! He's Tony! Anthony Redgrave. We met up before coming into town. He's my-"

She stopped, her exuberant happiness melting as she remembered their earlier argument before she had made her decision to come to Raccoon.

"...My friend," she finished lamely, stepping back, her smile falling.

Marvin watched her silently, his pale, sweaty features curious, before turning his gaze back to the camera. "Thought he was the rookie at first... Certainly looks a helluva lot like him..."

He jerked his bloody hand that had been gripping his wound over his shoulder, indicating the upper balcony over them. "You can make it to that courtyard through the second floor, east side."

His words were strained and breathless, and it was clear to Claire that her fellow survivor probably wasn't going to last much longer.

Nodding, giving him a confidant smile that she finally felt was sincere, the younger Redfield reassured him, "Okay. Thanks, Marvin, I'm on it."

He nodded absently, letting his head fall back as he exhaled and inhaled heavily while she ran towards the closer stairs, practically jumping up them two at a time.

Tony was alive. And with his help, she knew she could get the last medallion, and get all three of them out of this station.

It was almost over, she thought.

She had _no_ idea...

* * *

_One hour earlier..._

* * *

"_I'LL BE FINE, BABE! NOW GET YOUR SWEET ASS OUTTA HERE, ALREADY!_"

Tony could just picture the flustered look on her face, and that was enough to bring his cocky grin back in full force as he turned to face the undead swarm approaching him. There were two that were getting a little too close, and his Beretta was out in a blink of an eye, two shots drastically reshaping their skulls, and sending their bodies to the asphalt in a splash of blood and rainwater. Twirling the handgun on his finger, Redgrave holstered the weapon, knowing he needed to save the bullets.

Smirking, he beckoned the ghouls towards him with open hands and a challenge. "_Come and get me!_"

The closest zombie made a sudden lunge for him, jaws snapping hungrily as it snarled in rage, but the crimson-coated mercenary deftly sidestepped the creature, his hands snatching out to grasp both sides of its head. A quick twist broke its neck, the corpse crumbling to the ground.

Two more ghouls, standing side-by-side, charged for him, arms out like a sleepwalker's, and the man in red slipped through the gap in-between them, arriving behind their stumbling forms. His gloved hands snatched them by each of their heads, and slammed them together with enough force to cave in the sides of their skulls, sending bone shards into whatever parts of their brain were still working, killing them for good.

The pale-haired youth spun to the side, the flaps of his coat slapping against a staggering female ghoul that groaned stupidly as he vanished from her sight, reappearing in a spin of red several feet away.

"_Ole!_" he cackled, quickly jerking back as another zombie lunged for him, his boot striking out to kick its limp legs out from underneath, followed by his knee slamming into its chest, and his fist in its face, shattering its nose in a burst of gore.

As that body fell in a heap, Tony casually swung a backhand over his shoulder, his gloved palm shattering the jaw of a ghoul that had been prepared to chow down on the junction where his neck and shoulder met.

As much fun as he was having putting these walking corpses down for good, there were still far too many of them closing in for his comfort. He needed to get moving, and find a way to lose them before one got lucky and took a bite out of him. With that decided, Tony charged through the heavily-grouped swarm of undead approaching him, his shoulder tackling into several, knocking many flat on their rears, and a few unlucky ones into the burning flames of the wrecks all around them. The red-coated man dashed down the street, black boots splashing through puddles of rainwater while he frequently leapt over the occasional corpse that tried to get too handsy. He cut down an alleyway free of undead, and made a run through another, arriving by an overturned truck with several red barrels spilling out.

When he spotted the unmistakable fire insignia on their sides, he allowed himself to slide to a halt, his grin returning, only this time with a vicious, cruel gleam sparking in his pale eyes.

Whirling around and drawing his handgun, the clever mercenary was pleased to see his crowd of flesh-eaters had followed him this far, joined by a few more of their rotting friends. They were almost next to the truck of overturned explosive barrels.

Lining his shot, the gunslinger squeezed the trigger, the jacketed round hitting one of the barrels with a soft *_ting-_*

That vanished in the roar of exploding flames and metal, tearing the zombies to burning chunks of rotten meat and bone, killing all of them for good in a massive burst of fire and steam.

Twirling the handgun again, Tony chuckled lightly, holstering it under his coat again as he quipped, "Sorry, fellas, but I'm just too hot to handle."

Spinning on the heel of his boot, he started looking around for the station Claire had been talking about. He needn't look for long. His pale blue eyes spotted his destination in short order. It was honestly kind of hard to miss.

The building didn't so much resemble an average police station as it did a heavily fortified library or museum, complete with a clock tower rising into the rainy sky above, its face as pale and bright as the moon.

Still smirking, Tony headed towards a gated door, his heavy steps making large splashes in the deep puddles of rainwater.

"I think I've kept my girl waitin' long enough."

* * *

The devil you know returns! Sorry for the long wait on this chapter, work and real life kept me pretty busy, and this one turned out a little longer than I thought it would be.

Major props to my good friend Da-Awesom-One for editing and proof-reading this chapter.

And a huge thank you to all the new readers who've faved and followed this story.

The next couple of chapters will be from Tony's POV, and it's gonna be pretty fun to have him run around the station.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Now I'm Here

* * *

Heavy footsteps making soft splashes in the ever-present rainwater, Tony's gloved hand reached for the metal handle of the door. When he felt the handle turn easily, the door swinging open with a soft *_creak_* of rusty hinges, he was relieved to find such a convenient entrance to the station's courtyard, but disappointed by the lack of foresight on the police's part in the simple task of securing their home turf. With a shrug, the young man stepped through the open gateway before turning to close the door, securing the long bar lock as he did.

_That should keep those stumbling stiffs out... Unless they realize they can just reach through the gate, and slide it back,_ he mused to himself.

Turning away from the door, Tony's icy blue eyes surveyed his new surroundings. Chuckling under his breath, the red-coated youth shook his head, hands resting on his hips as he took in the courtyard ahead.

"_Gee..._"

It was a standard small courtyard, complete with green grass, and even a park bench for officers and civilian guests to sit on... along with several large, open impromptu graves, with numerous bodies wrapped in white sheets stained with blood resting by them, a few wooden boards serving as markers jutting out above the filled ones.

"I feel safer already," he murmured dryly.

A graveyard, even a hastily made one, was probably the last place anyone wanted to be during an outbreak of the living dead. With a sigh, the snowy-haired mercenary started forward, stepping in-between the spaces between the graves. Walking over the graves themselves felt disrespectful... and knowing his luck, one of the corpses would wake up from their dirt nap, and get grabby with his boots. The last thing he needed was mud on them to go along with the blood that had already probably gotten all over them on his way here.

"And people think the walking dead's scary? Wait till they see how much I'm charging 'em for cleaning up this mess," Tony uttered aloud, mostly to break the monotonous sound of falling rain.

Stepping past an open grave which held two more bodies wrapped in white tarps, the white-haired man exited the courtyard, arriving in front of a descending set of stairs, the only other pathway to the right of them barred off with several sturdy pieces of wood nailed in place.

Leaning his head a little ways to the side to better peer through the gaps in the boards, Tony spotted the front gate of the station's entrance, where several dozen ghouls had gathered, their hungry moans reverberating loudly, even from the distance between himself and them. Looking away, Redgrave turned his gaze towards the bottom of the stairs, where a single light illuminated an empty stairway, the pale hue reflecting off the blue brick stones giving them an eerie glow.

Smirking, the man slipped his hands into the pockets of his coat, and began descending the stairs. If he had felt like it, he could have torn those boards blocking him down with little effort, and head straight for the station's front doors.

...But where was the fun in that?

"I'm nothing, if not adventurous," he reminded himself as he arrived at the bottom of the stairway. His gaze scanned over the walls before settling on the right side of the stairway less than three feet away from himself, a door with a glass pane window.

"Let's see what's behind door number two..." Tony mused as he approached the door, stopping in front of it, his eyes falling on the handle, which was wrapped tightly with a metal chain and lock bound next to a pipeline jutting down from the top of the stairway's ceiling.

Unable to resist a soft chuckle and a wry grin, the crimson-coated mercenary quickly flexed his left and right hands while calling loudly, "Aw, man, wouldja look at that? The door's _locked!_ Oh, whatever shall I _do?_"

His right hand reached out, grasping the dangling lock, palming it for a moment, as if testing its weight, before his fingers closed tightly over it. A heavy metallic *_crunch_* issued, only faintly muffled. With a harsh tug, Redgrave tore the chain away, tossing it aside, the metal skidding across the wet pavement with a clatter.

Looking down at his hand, he slowly unwrapped his fingers, staring down at the crushed lock almost curiously before turning his palm down, and letting it fall to the ground as well. With that done, suddenly finding himself grateful that Claire wasn't around - saving him the trouble of having to come up with a way to distract her beforehand - Tony grasped the handle, and pulled the door open, stepping inside the small room. He took in the new surroundings, not that there was much to see.

It was a small room, with a large box chest secured against the wall in front of him, a small table and foldable chair tucked in the left-hand corner next to it, a set of lockers lining the right side of the room, and a small radiator tucked opposite the table. The mercenary in red glanced down at the top of the small table, his eyes catching sight of the single object laying atop it, and his grin returned, his hand reaching out to pick it up.

"And it's not even my birthday," he mused aloud as he held the item closer to inspect it.

It was a handgun: a sleek, large caliber Colt .45 M19, which packed a heavier punch than the Beretta he had been using. Ejecting the clip, pleased to see it was fully loaded with a bullet already chambered, Tony slammed the magazine back home, giving the gun a twirl as he pulled his coat open, about to stick the weapon in one of his many pockets when he paused.

Considering the lengths he had gone to avoid getting bitten by any of the walking dead, the young man realized it wasn't the smartest idea to just jam his new toy in an unsecured pocket in his coat in the off chance it would happen to fall out. And knowing his luck, it probably would before he'd get a chance to even use it. With an annoyed sigh, he placed the Colt back down on the table, his eyes once more looking over the small room.

"Alright, if I were a cop, where would I keep a spare holster?" he asked himself aloud, his blue orbs falling on the large chest to the right of the table.

Hunching over slightly, Tony grasped the heavy top of the chest, and, with no real effort, shoved the top open, exposing the interior of the crate. Another smile formed on his lips; his eyes gleaming excitedly.

"_Paydirt, baby!_"

Tucked inside the container were five orange boxes of .45 caliber rounds, another box of empty magazines to load them in, and what really had inspired his current shit-eating grin: a sleek, black steel revolver, a Ruger Blackhawk, gleaming almost sexily in what little light the room had to offer.

Bending down to grasp the heavy revolver, rising back to his full height and holding the weapon close for inspection, Tony whistled as he looked the gun over, not finding a single scratch or even a smudge staining its pristine metal.

"Nell would just _love_ to get her hands on you, baby," the gunslinger stated aloud, breaking the chamber open, and inspecting the empty holes for dust or anything else that would obstruct the rounds, pleased to find nothing of the sort.

He pushed the cylinder home, and placed the large revolver on the table next to the Colt. As he pulled his hand away from the hilt of the weapon, he spotted a curious engraving on the wooden handle. It was a stylized horse's tail, or even the feathered wing of a bird or an angel.

"Or better yet, I know a certain cowgirl who could put you to some use," he concluded, his smile softening, though it vanished when he suddenly realized he wasn't even sure if Claire had made it to the station yet.

The thought of her being chased by the horde of undead populating the city's burning streets, with nothing to defend herself with...

_Cut that crap out. Claire's tough, you know that. Tougher than some staggering corpses. She's **fine,** and waiting for you inside the station somewhere..._

"Focus, and hurry it up already," Tony gritted to himself, his voice taking a rougher edge.

Snatching the ammo and magazine boxes, the gunman shoved them onto the table before slamming the crate close, and moved for the small row of lockers on the room's right wall. The middle one was already open, where an officer's utility belt lay atop a small pile of clothes, which was the Raccoon City Police's standard uniform, he assumed.

Taking the belt, the man in red gave the clothes a curious glance before scoffing. "Blue's _so_ not my color..."

He was about to turn away when he saw a key rack with a lone key hanging off a single hook, a small leather tag attached to it. Tony plucked the key off of it, looking over the tag, and seeing the word 'Courtyard' stitched on it. Giving the small metal item a little twirl, the merc pocketed it with a shrug. He had a feeling he'd probably never even use it, but you never know...

Securing the holster from the belt under his right arm to mirror the one already under his left, Tony took the hip pouch from the belt as well, pleased with how deep the interior was. Holstering his new Colt, the young man went to work loading the magazines with the .45 rounds. In a few minutes he was done, five clips of ammo richer, the hip pouch holding them all easily, and he had almost nineteen rounds left over in the last box. Quickly loading the heavy revolver, he slipped it into one of his coat's deeper side pockets, while shoving the remaining ammo in another.

He briefly toyed with the idea of ditching the Beretta, but decided against it. It still had a few rounds left, and there was always the chance he'd find some more nine-millimeter ammunition inside the station. And if he didn't, he'd save it as a last resort.

Fully locked, loaded, and acutely aware of the time ticking away, each second leaving his significant other's fate further in doubt, Tony exited the guardroom, and made his way for a second flight of stairs, practically dashing up them two at a time, and arriving at the top in moments. He found himself on the other side of the courtyard, this side being a brick path with the station's iron gate looming ominously over some bushes and shrubbery, various gardening tools lying about. A large dumpster was situated all the way across the court, with at least half a dozen bodies sprawled about the yard by a few empty park benches.

As the pale-haired youth slowed his pace to observe the bodies, his head inclined ever so slightly, his ears picking up a strange, heavy humming sound. One that was familiar, but he couldn't quite place his finger on where he had heard it before...

The answer came roaring and twirling past him a split-second later, and he remembered it was the sound of a helicopter's blades whirring through air, just as he saw a long gray shape with blurred blades careen about, before slamming into the side of the station with a heavy crashing sound. Shuttering steel collided with crumbling brick, mortar, and wood. His icy eyes followed the trail of smoke left in the copter's wake, Tony's expression once more bemused.

"_Ha!_ Road-ragin' tankers, explosions, zombies, and now crashing choppers? This city's got it all! I should've come here with Claire sooner."

Following the smoke trail, he spotted another fenced-off section of the courtyard surrounding a metal fire escape, the tail end of the copter hanging out the side of the station's brick wall it had crashed into. Seeing the single wire-fenced door spurred him to move quicker, his strides longer, bringing him in front of it in the blink of an eye. His gloved hand reached out to snatch the metal handle-

Finding it securely locked in place. Tony sighed, rolling his eyes, and scowling down on the offending handle.

"Of course the one door they remembered to lock up is the one I need open..." he bemoaned. It seemed his luck had turned rotten once again, which he figured.

As the pale-haired man contemplated the door for another moment, he heard a soft metallic hinge squeak softly under the pitter-patter of rain, accompanied by footsteps on metal. Glancing up towards the source of the sound, Tony felt his heart skip a beat when he saw a slim figure in pink holding a flashlight, inspecting the copter tail, her long, auburn hair's ponytail unmistakable, even in the near pitch-blackness.

_I should gripe more often. My luck always seems to come up afterwards, _his mind rambled as his grin returned.

Sticking the tips of his fingers into his mouth, the young man issued a high-pitched whistle that made his girlfriend jump and do double take, her eyes whipping back and forth as she sought the source of the sound.

"_DOWN HERE, SWEETHEART!_" he called with a chuckle, and a heartbeat later, Claire Redfield's face appeared from over the railing, looking down at him with a similarly elated grin.

"_TONY!_" she called back, her face lighting up beautifully, and the young man felt a tension he hadn't noticed building ease from his chest, the relief sweet, and much needed. "_HOLD ON, I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!_" she shouted before disappearing momentarily.

Still smirking, Tony returned his attention to the locked door, his aggravation returning as he realized it was the last obstacle between him and his significant other. That aggravation was forgotten once again when Claire finished dashing down the fire escape to stand on the opposite side of the door in front of them, her smile just as cheerful as his, her grey-blue eyes filled with the same relief as his own.

Leaning against the fenced frame of the door, Tony offered her an eased grin before speaking first. "Babe, you are a sight for sore eyes, lemme tell ya. This whole 'zombie epidemic' thing? It's fun and all, but I think I prefer the living over the dead, y'know? Least they don't want a piece of me literally." He then looked up at the crashed helicopter, gesturing to it with his right hand. "By the way, it looks like the city might need a new chopper pilot. Think they're hiring?"

She laughed at that, and that was another relief, mostly because he had feared he'd never hear such a lovely sound again after their fight in her dorm room.

"It's good to see you, too, Tony. Took you a while to get here, though. You get lost on the way?" she asked, her smile becoming teasing.

The red-coated man scoffed, waving her words off. "Nah, just wanted to take in the sights a bit 'fore headin' on over here. Could've done without the ghouls breathing down my neck the entire way, though..."

He rattled the door between them handle again, letting out another aggravated huff. Looking back at Claire, he asked, "Don't suppose you'd happen to have the key for this gate on ya?"

The college student shook her head, offering him a, "Sorry, I don't."

He let out an aggravated sigh, "Just my luck. I come to save the day, but the true monsters aren't the undead. It's a locked door."

That got a small chuckle from the young woman as she shook her head, giving him another smile. He found himself just wanting to stare back at her, to let this moment last for as long as it could...

But it couldn't, and he needed to focus on the situation at hand.

"You find out anything about your brother?" Tony inquired gently, his smile dropping.

It was a loaded question, because if the inside of the station was even half as bad as the nightmare the rest of the city had become, then he feared what that would mean for Claire's brother.

To his surprise, the girl's grin only widened further, her eyes gleaming in excitement as she eagerly leaned closer against the fenced door. "I did! I found out about a lead inside his team's office. And now that you're here, I know we can get it! With it, I'll be able to find out where he went!"

Her excitement was contagious, the young man's grin returning as he nodded. "_Finally,_ some much needed good news outta this hellhole!" He then chuckled, his excited smirk easing back to an earnest smile. "I'm glad to hear it... So, uh, anything else cookin', good-lookin'?"

Before she could respond, there was a faint popping sound followed by a low crack-

Which became a rushing roar as flames exploded around the crashed helicopter, the sudden force and wave of heat washing over the two, causing Claire to whirl around in alarm while Tony only gave the flaming whirlybird a curious glance.

"Huh. That answers that question," he murmured aloud as the young woman turned back around to face him, though her eyes gazed behind him, her pale, rain-soaked face suddenly filled with fresh terror.

"...Tony, you need to run."

Frowning and raising a fine white brow, he glanced over his shoulder to see what the girl was staring at...

Seemingly drawn by the blazing fire, dozens upon dozens of zombies pushed against the heavy iron fence, their sheer numbers succeeding in pushing the bars, pairs and pairs of pale, blood-soaked rotting hands desperately grasping out for the living flesh only just out of their reach. Inside the courtyard, the various bodies of the men and women Tony had passed by had begun to stumble back onto their feet, their vacant eyes all locked on him.

Turning around entirely, he glared at the zombies in fresh annoyance, huffing a sigh and shaking his head. "Guess that was the dinner bell."

Behind him Claire spoke again, her tone increasingly frantic with every word. "Tony, seriously, they're getting through the gate. You need to run _now_."

He really didn't want to run away. Not again. And if he was separated from her again, there was no telling when or if they'd ever cross paths within the increasingly chaotic environment that Raccoon City had become. The young mercenary watched as the three closest shuffling bodies made their way at a snail's pace for him across the courtyard-

When it hit him. He blinked, his surprise mixing with the sheer obviousness of it, and the fact it had taken until now for it to click in his head. Laughing, his smile returning, the crimson-coated man spun around on the top of his heel, the tail end of his coat flapping from the sudden motion, which made the girl blink and flinch before she stared at him incredulously as his hands began rifling through the many pockets in the interior of his coat.

"What are you doing?! You need to run _now!_" she screamed, her fingers locking through the mesh wire of the fence as she watched him with wide eyes filled with disbelief as he continued searching his coat's pockets.

"No, no, s'all good. Just gotta remember where I put it..." Tony brushed off her concern with casual dismal, while behind him the zombies staggered ever closer, the nearest one a fat man in a police uniform, blood running down his open mouth as he groaned in hunger.

Just as the mercenary was beginning to get impatient, wondering if he had stuck it in his pants pocket instead of one in his coat's, his fingers brushed a familiar leather tag, bringing a triumphant smile to his face just as Claire's morphed into an expression of terror.

"_BEHIND YOU!_" she screamed.

Tony felt a warm, foul breath on the back of his neck, punctuated by a sudden snarling groan-

-Just as his left arm snapped back, his elbow colliding with the fat zombie's jaw, dislocating it in a spurt of black blood and tearing flesh, the corpse thrown back and colliding with the other two approaching zombies, its heavier build sending all three sprawling onto the ground.

With a grin like a cat that had caught the canary, Tony Redgrave proudly held the small key with the leather tag labeled 'Courtyard' up to the flabbergasted college girl. "I was so caught up in all the excitement, I forgot I had the key on me the whole time."

With that, the white-haired youth slipped the key into the lock, turned it, and easily opened the door, stepping inside the fenced fire escape area before slamming the door closed, and re-locking it just as the zombies had begun to feebly crawl towards the young couple.

Tony gave the ghouls a mocking sneer as he casually dropped the courtyard key to the ground with a contemptuous laugh. "Sorry, folks, but it looks like you'll have to eat out somewhere else. We're closed for the night."

Behind him, after letting out a long sigh of relief, Claire reached for a radio hooked onto her belt, her grey-blue eyes looking past the gated door towards the herd of zombies pounding against the larger iron wrought fence, a few of the thinner ones managing to force their way through about half-way.

"Not good..." she whispered before pressing a button on the radio, a hiss of static issuing before she began to speak again. "Hey, Marvin, this is bad," she started saying as she began making her way back up the fire escape's steps, causing Tony to whirl around in sudden confusion.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up, who the hell's '_Marvin?!_'"

The young woman ignored him, turning up the stairs just as her boyfriend was following her, his eyes lingering on the shape of her bottom shorts for a second before he forced himself to focus.

"I found Tony, but there's zombies everywhere!"

"Her _boyfriend_, just so you know!" he called from behind her, causing the Redfield girl to whirl around with a glare.

"For God's sake, _grow up!_ Marvin's a police officer! Maybe the last one alive in the entire building, and he's been helping me find a way out of this deathtrap!"

Tony met her glare with a wry smirk as he responded, "Well, I'm here now, so we'll be kissin' this joint goodbye in no time."

To that, Claire rolled her eyes and murmured, "Oh, brother..."

She looked back at the radio, pressing the receive button, but only getting static. Hitting the transmit switch, she called into the device, "Marvin? Marvin, are you there?! _Marvin?!_"

She pressed the receive button again, but still, only static was her response.

"Oh god, you gotta be kidding me!" she whispered in disbelief mixed with anxiety.

She hooked the radio back onto her belt, moving for the door to the station's upper hallway when Tony's hand snatched her wrist, preventing her from turning the knob.

"What are you doing?!" Claire demanded, looking up to see the young man's attention drawn to a nearby window, observing the flickering yellow-orange flames from the helicopter wreckage.

"Well, 'fore you go and dash on in there to check on ol' Marv, I got a question for you: do you prefer your zombies regular, or extra crispy?"

The question caused the young college student to blink and sputter, "Wait, _what?_" when something smacked against the window, making her jump when she saw it was a zombie, this one covered head-to-toe in flames. It beat its burning fists weakly against the window, staring at them with eyes hidden by waves of heat and fire.

"Those weren't in there before... I just came from that hallway," she muttered, stunned.

Tony nodded, replying, "Thought so. I prefer the usual variety of undead, myself. My guess is the chopper had survivors, who probably weren't as alive as they appeared. They turned, attacked the pilot, causing the copter to crash and explode with them inside. They pulled themselves out, and _voila._ Burning undead."

Before she could say anything else, her boyfriend gripped the side-railing of the fire escape, and hoisted himself over, smoothly falling back down to the ground level and in front of the only other door.

From above, Claire called to him, "Don't bother; it's been chained up! We're just gonna have to make a run for it-"

She stopped when she heard a soft metallic *_clank,_* and peered over to see a smug Tony holding the yellow chain up before letting it drop to the gravel-covered ground below.

"We're in luck! Wasn't secured properly! Now come on, babe, let's get outta this rain!"

The girl blinked in surprise, murmuring, "I could've sworn... Well, whatever. This'll be faster, anyway."

Looking away, Claire made for the steps down the fire escape, while below, Tony's boot stepped atop a crushed chain link that had previously held the entire length in place, his foot dragging suddenly to kick it through a small gap in the fence, the broken bit vanishing into the rainwater and shadows. The red-coated man waited for the pink-vested woman to arrive by the door, and when she did, he gripped the handle with his left hand, his right reaching into his coat to produce his new Colt, his thumb over the hammer of the gun.

Giving Claire a wry smile, Tony spoke smoothly and jovially. "While normally I'd hold the door open for you, babe, I'm putting chivalry on hold for the moment... Just in case."

She returned the smile, though one not as confidant as his, her grey-blue eyes filled with worry and apprehension. Letting his own smile fall away, the man turned his gaze ahead as he quickly turned the knob, and swung the door open, sweeping his handgun out for anything that moved, undead or otherwise. Aside from a large pile of corpses in the left-hand corner to go with the heavy splashes of blood across the walls, nothing was alive or undead as far as he could see.

Stepping inside the corridor, Tony's icy eyes scanned over the bloody bodies while Claire moved inside behind him, the door closing behind them. She stepped gingerly over the corpse of a bald cop with a couple of bullets in its skull, and made her way for the hallway to the right, calling to him over her shoulder as she did.

"It's a bit of a walk, and there's water all over the floor from an overflow, so watch your step."

The young man was following her steps as she spoke, but stopped once he was by a door to his left, this one also chained. Giving the frame a quick look over, his free hand lifted the section of the chain that was looped around a small heater.

Glancing up, he called back to her, "Hey, why don't we just cut through here, instead? It's a straight shot, and keeps us from getting our feet wet."

The auburn-haired girl stopped just as she was reaching the pass around the corridor, looking back at him while replying, "It's locked. Securely this time, unlike the last one."

To that, Tony faced the door again while taking a single step back, before striking out with his right leg in a sudden wild kick, his boot connecting firmly where the lock frame and jamb met, the door flying off its hinges in a spray of splinters and the knob, which bounced across the floor of the newly-revealed office, the door itself flying through the air before smacking into an unlucky zombie officer that happened to be shambling across the room. The floored zombie found itself flat on its back, the door frame on top of it, the corpse groaning pathetically and feebly shoving its arms against the obstruction atop it, when a black boot descended, the wild stomp crushing the corpse's head in a splatter of blood, mashed skull, and pulpy gray matter.

Raising his boot up to study the gore sticking to its sole, Tony grimaced. "_Ugh._ And here I thought there was nothin' worse than stepping on dog shit."

Claire, who had watched the entire spectacle in befuddled silence, mouth agape when she saw how easily Tony kicked a solid wood door down with a single kick, managed to shake herself out of her stupor, following after the man in red into the office as he scraped the worse of the bloody mess at the bottom of his boot against the door frame.

Looking from the ruined jamb to the shattered door on the ground, Redfield could only shrug. "Well, that's... one way to get past a locked door, I suppose."

Tony uttered a short guffaw as he inspected his boot once again, seemingly satisfied that there was only a sheen of blood left at the bottom of it. "Told ya, babe. With me around, gettin' outta here will be a piece of cake."

Placing his foot back down, the youth kicked the door off the officer's corpse before bending down, his hands patting at the permanently deceased man's belt.

Claire blinked, watching his hands move along the dead man's belt before asking, "What are you doing?"

Tony continued searching until he found a small hip pouch by the man's left hip, his hand swiftly opening it, and producing a lone clip of ammunition. Rising back up as he slipped the procured bullets into one of his coat's many pockets, the merc simply replied, "We can use these. He _can't._"

She frowned at his words, her expression giving away her disapproval of pilfering a dead man's body, but she nodded nonetheless. She may not like it, but Tony wasn't wrong. They would need the bullets, sooner more probably than later.

Stepping over the officer's body, the young man surveyed the large office space they found themselves in, spying another dead cop's body propped against the wall under a boarded window, where a zombie was currently banging its rotting fists against the glass, snarling as it watched him approach the body.

"Look around for anything else that might be useful."

The college student nodded again, walking along the rows of desks all lined up together while murmuring, "Alright."

Before crouching down next to this cop's body, the merc gave it a hard kick to its side, scowling when he felt a rib snap under the spongy flesh, but other than jerking from the impact, the body didn't move.

_So some stay dead for good, while others get back up to look for a snack. Be nice if there was a way to tell the dead apart from the undead..._

Pushing his internal thoughts aside, he crouched down, and unbuttoned the cop's ammo pack, producing two more clips of nine-millimeter ammunition, though he was disappointed to see the officer's sidearm was missing. Rising back up, Tony paused to look at the ghoul still banging its fists uselessly against the boarded window before walking away, slipping the clips into the same pocket he placed the first one. Up ahead at the end of the row of desks not far from the double doors that led out of the office, Claire was looking over something she had found, but was already putting it in her side pack before her companion could identify it, the young woman making her way to the lone office to her left to check it last.

Deciding to let her search that space alone, the white-haired man moved towards the double doors, finding a single chair, half a dozen heavy books stacked atop its seat, was secured firmly under the doors handles.

As Tony yanked the chair away, Claire called from his left, "_Tony, catch!_"

Glancing aside, the crimson-coated man's left hand shot out to catch the object the young woman had tossed, his eyes narrowing curiously when he saw it was a large red handle, the kind one would find attached to a valve of a pipe.

Holding it closer to study it, Tony inquired to his girlfriend, "What's this for? Bashin' their heads in if we run outta ammo?"

Walking over to him, smirking cheekily, Claire replied, "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you? Hold onto it for me, okay?"

Returning her grin, Tony tossed the valve handle into the air, catching it again before slipping it into one of his coat's larger pockets by his hip while saying, "You got it, babe."

Taking the lead, he pushed the double doors open, sweeping his Colt out to follow the beam from Claire's flashlight, but aside from a still corpse with a crushed skull laying limp at the top of some steps, they were the only things in the small corridor. Tony followed her up the stairs, coming up to a sealed steel shutter. He then holstered his handgun before grabbing the corpse, heaving it aside onto the floor below, where it landed with a soft splash from the overflowing water.

Kneeling, he felt along the shutter's edge, speaking to his girlfriend as he did. "I'll have this up in no time, babe. Just gimme one sec-"

Before he could even begin, a soft electrical hum suddenly issued, followed by a low grind of metal against metal as the shutter began to rise smoothly on its own, letting the faint light from the large hall in. The snowy-haired man blinked rapidly, letting his eyes adjust before looking back to Claire, who was standing next to a small electronic panel, where he saw two fuses fitted inside, one wrapped in tape with the words 'Main Hall Shutter' written on it.

Her cheeky smile returning, she moved past Tony while saying, "Work smarter, not harder, '_babe._'"

For once, the loudmouth found himself lacking a retort, but grinned after a moment, shaking his head.

As Claire walked into the station's Main Hall, taking long strides, she began calling out, "_Marvin?!_"

Tony followed behind her at a slower pace, taking in the new sights of the hall, whistling when he spotted the large statue at its center overlooking the entire space.

"Pretty fancy setup for a police station," he said aloud, head craning back to look at both upper levels.

"It used to be a museum," she called back, the answer making the red-clad youth blink in surprise while the auburn-haired woman was walking up the small slope while calling out again, "_Marvin!_"

She disappeared around the upper corner, walking out of his line of vision as she moved behind some medical curtains. The boy lowered his gaze, and started after Claire, moving just a bit quicker. Arriving at the base of the statue in the center of the hall, he spotted the girl kneeling next to the unmoving body of a cop laying sprawled out on a bench, a smaller table next to him with an open laptop just an arm's length away. Tony remained silent, his icy eyes looking over the officer, noting the pale pallor on his dark skin, giving it an unhealthy gray sheen, and the large splashes of blood on his hands and over his gut, where they clutched protectively.

Claire was checking a small first aid box on the floor by the policeman, before sighing with relief, and standing back up, glancing back at him as she began to speak, "He's just unconscious. I think he took some heavy-duty painkillers from this kit, and knocked himself out."

Walking back down the incline towards the bottom of the hall, the girl spoke back to him as she moved, "I'm gonna lower the shutters so nothing can try to slip in. Hopefully, that'll keep Marvin safe while he rests. Poor guy was in a lot of pain, so he probably needs it."

As Claire walked down towards the shutter on the hall's west side, Tony slowly approached Marvin, his eyes locked on the bloody wound on his side. Crouching down next to the unconscious man, he glanced up, spotting his girlfriend moving for the east side, the other shutter coming down with a soft mechanical hum. Turning back to the officer, the mercenary lifted one of the man's bloody hands away to get a better look at his wound.

Confirming his suspicions, the pale-haired man saw the torn and ragged flesh, with the unmistakable patterns of human teeth marks. Rising back up, wiping the back of his fingers against his coat, Tony stared down at Marvin, his smile gone, his expression hardened but forlorn. There was no use denying it. The poor bastard had been bitten by one of the zombies.

_And while they don't follow the headshot rule to a T, they follow the rules when it comes to bites..._

He had seen it himself back at the gas station. The store clerk had turned in the mere minutes it had taken Tony to get to the back office of the shop, and back to the front.

_That guy was bitten in the neck, while Marv, here, was bitten on his side. Claire's only been here for a while, but he's still breathing... __**For now.**_

Maybe it was different for everyone, whatever this was that turned the living into the undead, and some turned quicker than others.

_But they still turn, eventually, _his mind concluded grimly. And that meant Marvin was a danger to him and Claire, because sooner or later, he would become one of the many monsters lurking in the necropolis Raccoon City had become.

Unconsciously, Tony felt his hand drifting under his coat, his fingers brushing the hilt of his Colt-

-when approaching footsteps undertoned by a fading ring of steel settling against the floor broke him from his reverie, Claire's voice calling just behind him, "Tony?... What's up? You have a weird look on your face..." Turning around, he saw that the young woman was approaching from behind him, her brow furrowed in concern.

Bringing his easy-going grin back, he replied coolly, "Just checkin' on ol' Marv, here. That's a pretty nasty gash on his side. I gotta admit, I'm impressed he held out this long before knocking himself out."

Stepping away from the unconscious police officer, Redgrave jerked his thumb at the large statue, giving it a look over before saying, "Lemme guess: this eyesore's a holdover from the station's museum days?"

Claire nodded, pointing at a series of engravings at the base of the statue, explaining, "Yeah, I think so. But more importantly, it's our ticket out of here. See these crests there? We need one more, and it'll open a secret passage that leads out of the station. Hopefully to somewhere zombie-free."

Tony did a double take, his eyes darting from the biker girl back to the statue, his tone filled with disbelief as he exclaimed, "Why the hell would a police station have a secret passage built under it?!"

The college student shrugged, waving her hand as she said, "No idea. But it's our best shot at getting out of here. I know where the last medallion is, but we're gonna make a short stop to my brother's squad's office before we get it."

The youngest Redfield sibling headed towards a lone door with a green spade insignia on it, producing a small key from her pack, and slipping it into the lock, unlocking the door while saying, "C'mon. The fastest way to get to where we need to go is through here."

As the young woman was stepping back as the door's lock issued a soft *_click,_* Tony gave Marvin one last glance before he followed after Claire as she unlocked the door.

"I haven't been through this room yet, so I'm not sure what to expect."

In response, the gunslinger drew his sidearm, which was answer enough. She dropped the key back into her pouch, and pulled out her flashlight while drawing her own revolver. Pushing the door open, the two stepped in, Claire leading this time, the beam of her flashlight sweeping over the new area.

It was another office area filled with more desks, and a couple of metal bookshelves filled with various binders and stacks of folders. While there was a large, dried pool of blood at the base of the small steps leading down into the office, there was only one body lying crumpled at the farthest desk closest to the only door out of the office. Hanging from the ceiling was a curious sight, party decorations that spelled 'WELCOME LEON' in colorful letters, various party favors strewn about across the desks.

As Claire's light beam flashed over the decorations, Tony gave them a curious look over, muttering to himself, "Looks like they were planning a party."

The woman descended the steps carefully, minding the few still-wet spots of blood before replying quietly, "Yeah, well, I'd say it's been cancelled."

Redgrave followed her, smirking while saying, "Shame, 'cause he's missing one helluva bash."

Taking out his own flashlight after holstering his Colt again, the man moved towards the collapsed body at the far desk, the collegiate girl warning him, "Tony, be careful. These things have a bad habit of playing dead."

In response to that, the merc's hand shot out, snatching the inanimate corpse by the back of its skull. The effect was instantaneous, the undead snarling and snapping its head back, arms flailing about, making Claire jump. Tony, looking more annoyed than afraid, simply tightened his hold on the ghoul's head, yanking it back before slamming it down onto the desk, where it had been resting previously, with enough force to crack the top, and smash the zombie's head into a gory pulp.

Claire winced at the sound of breaking bone mixed with ripping flesh and crumpling wood, her eyes narrowing in disgust as Tony casually searched the corpse, huffing in aggravation when he found the ammo pack empty. Rising back up, he gave the corpse a contemptuous shove, knocking it onto the floor, its chair following it with a loud clatter.

Giving the brute a glare, the girl mockingly inquired, "Can you go _one minute_ without breaking something?"

She saw Tony smirk in the beam of her flashlight as he shrugged. "I mean, I could if I _tried..._ But where's the fun in that?"

Claire groaned and rolled her eyes in response as she moved for the door, her boyfriend waiting for her.

She gripped the handle but didn't turn it, looking up at him while saying in a hushed voice just above a whisper, "There's one zombie out there, but it's totally focused on a vending machine. If we move quietly, we can sneak past it."

Hearing that, Tony snorted, fighting back a laugh. "Oh, this I _gotta_ see."

Claire, annoyed at his flippancy, smacked the back of her hand against his chest, though it did more harm for her than him, a small wince flinching over her face while Redgrave remained unfazed. "Get serious, please?"

Her boyfriend held up his hands in submission, nodding. Sighing in relief, she opened the door very slowly, moving lightly on her feet as she stepped out into a low-lit hallway. Tony, his own steps light as well, followed after her, but stopped suddenly, looking back when he heard flesh smacking against plastic. When the red-coated mercenary saw that there was, indeed, a zombie distracted by a vending machine, the zombie packing a huge gut, he covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Claire nevertheless heard his muffled chortles, anyway, and whirled around, glaring at him with pure frustration in her grey-blue eyes.

"_Anthony, get over here!_" she hissed harshly.

The man turned away from the ghoul, his hand still over his mouth to hold back the last of his laughter. But when Claire called him by his first name, there was no ignoring her.

That was the idea in his head, until his eyes spotted another door to his left, with a bronzed plate next to it, a single word engraved on it that stopped him dead in his steps.

ARMORY.

Tony's grin returned, his eyes lighting up like a kid's on Christmas morning. Completely ignoring Claire's urgent order, the crimson-coated youth strode towards the door, shoving it open and stepping inside. His excitement was momentarily muddled when he didn't spy the typical gun rack assortment common in most weapons armories. Instead, there was a large keypad terminal situated in front of a series of large electronic lockers.

Giving the keypad a glance over, his eyes narrowed when he saw it was missing the keypads for the numbers '2' and '3.' Tony quickly walked down the right side aisle of lockers, glancing inside them through the glass cases over the doors. He was further disappointed to see most were empty, save for the third and ninth lockers containing a combat knife and a box of nine-millimeter rounds in a red box, a few empty clips next to them. The pale-haired man huffed a sigh under his breath, almost ready to head back into the hall when he spied an open gate in the back. When he glanced past the iron bars, the excitement in his eyes lit up anew, his grin returning.

Further in the back, the door swung open, Claire scrambling inside quickly but quietly, shutting it behind her before rounding around, her eyes narrowing into a glare when she saw the red-coated man far in the back.

Storming after him, she angrily growled, "What are you doing in here?! We don't have time to waste exploring every room in this station!"

"Not exploring, babe," Tony replied as he eyed is his newest discovery, his grin wider than ever. "_Window shopping._"

That comment caught the woman off-guard, momentarily cooling her rising temper as she arrived to stand next to her partner, her gaze following his own, and spotting just what'd had him so excited. Situated in the far back of the room was an electronically-locked gun safe with a pane window door, revealing two rifles secured inside on sets of hooks, the top being a Remington shotgun, while the bottom was a long gun with a metal gray tube: an M79 grenade launcher. Tony whistled, impressed, his gaze wandering over the surface of the safe when he spotted the door handle next to an electronic card reader.

Moving towards the card reader, the merc dragged the back of his gloved palm over it, while next to him, Claire began saying, "See? It's locked. And that glass is probably shatterproof, so you can't smash it. Now let's go already-"

"Gimme your knife."

Tony's sudden demand caught the girl off-guard, making her fumble for words.

"Wha-? _H-hey!_"

Instead of waiting, his left hand suddenly darted out, slipping behind her back. The young woman tried to twist her head around to follow the man's arm when she let out a soft yelp, her cheeks flushing red, her surprise quickly morphing into annoyance a moment later when a smirking Tony drew his hand back, knife gripped firmly between his fingers.

Claire crossed her arms, glaring at him as he examined the blade while gritting her teeth. "You only had to grab the knife..."

Wagging the knife and returning her glare with a smile, the young man could only reply, "_Yeeeah,_ but can ya blame me?"

"I can blame you for a _lot_ of things, but I'll wait until after we've escaped... _If_ we escape..." she murmured, the last part mostly to herself.

Letting his smile fall away for a more somber expression, Tony turned to face the electronic key reader once again, raising the girl's knife as he spoke again. "We're gonna get out of here, Claire. I promise."

His smirk returned suddenly, his eyes glimmering in mirth as he asked, "Wanna see a cool trick?"

Closing her eyes and sighing, Claire raised her hands in defeat. "Not really, but you're gonna do it anyway, so just get on with it."

"Your wish is my command," Tony stated before suddenly jamming the blade of the knife in the slot of the card reader, and giving it a hard twist. The panel exploded in a shower of electric sparks and bits of metal and plastic. Claire screamed, flinching back while Redgrave laughed, yanking the knife back as the panel continued sparking.

The woman glared at him and yelled, "Are you _insane?!_ Why'd you do that?!"

Her boyfriend didn't respond, instead only holding his empty hand up, index finger raised for a split-second before lowering. As his finger fell, a soft electronic chime issued, followed by a soft *_click_* of a lock sliding out of place. Blinking, Claire's anger vanished as she watched him grab the gun safe's door, and pull it open.

"You... disabled the lock," she breathed in realization, before blinking as Tony extended his hand holding her knife out to her, offering the small blade back hilt-first. She took it, slipping back into its sheathe before looking back up at the man, who was still grinning, though it was a genuine smile, and not his normal cocky one.

"Despite your claims to the contrary, babe, I can problem solve every now and then."

With that, he reached into the safe, first grabbing the Remington, looking the long shotgun over appreciatively, before setting it down by its stock against the bottom of the safe. Tony then pulled out the grenade launcher, looking it over, his eyes shining in impression.

"This is some serious firepower for a little place like Raccoon City," he stated, breaking open the stock to inspect it further.

"Maybe they had it in case they needed it for... riot control, or something?" Claire guessed.

Tony nodded, snapping the weapon back into place before reaching inside the safe to grab a metal box of shotgun shells, which he placed at the bottom of the safe at his waist level, then grabbing another small case with a red cover. Opening it up, he produced three large shells the size of Claire's fist.

"Napalm... _Nice,_" he said, his grin returning.

He stopped, glancing at the collegiate student before extending his arm out to her, presenting the weapon. The girl blinked, confused and looking up at the boy.

"Take it," he said.

"What? For real? That thing must weigh a ton!" she argued.

Tony shook his head, dropping the weapon into her hands, making her jump, before she blinked again, looking the launcher over in sudden confusion.

"Huh? It's... not that heavy..."

"Light, but heavily dangerous when loaded," he appraised with a nod, picking the shotgun back up, and opening the case full of shells, before reaching into it as he began loading the rifle. "It suits you."

Claire couldn't stop the smirk from forming on her lips as she watched him continue to load his new shotgun, retorting, "You've sure got a way with words, don't you, hot shot?" Tony snorted, pumping the fully-loaded shotgun to chamber a round before slipping the remaining shells into one of his coat's pockets. She looked the launcher over again while saying, "And you definitely know how to pick the best gifts."

That comment sent a spark through the young man's mind, his smile returning as he rounded around to face her again, his hand quickly digging through his many pockets. "Oh yeah, that reminds me! Got another present for ya, babe!"

Claire watched as her boyfriend's hand shuffled from one pocket to another in amusement while saying, "Oh, _really?_ Two gifts in a row? I'm half-tempted to say it's my lucky day."

Still grinning, Tony felt his fingers brush the small parcel wrapped up tightly in his coat's upper pocket, when he paused, his grin falling away.

_No... Not yet. Not while we're still in this zombie-infested hellhole..._

Huffing a sigh, he drew his hand back, letting it fall into a lower one, where he felt the hilt of the large revolver he had found earlier. Remembering he had wanted to give it to Claire anyway, the white-haired man produced the Ruger from his coat, before twirling it expertly, gunspinning as he extending his arm to the side, and then back in front of him. The gunslinger then tossed it up into the air, watching the revolver as it fell, before snatching it up, and holding it out to his girlfriend, handle first, his fingers wrapped around the barrel.

The woman looked down at the weapon, blinking in surprise while he began speaking. "Found it on my way over here. Figured you could use something with a heavier punch than that pea-shooter you're packin'."

Claire took the revolver, looking it over, her eyes lingering on the engraving carved on the handle, before looking back at Tony to say, "Cute. It matches my necklace."

Said necklace was indeed a silver wing charm with a small emerald embedded in it, and the handle's engraving did resemble it. A happy coincidence, as far as Tony was concerned.

Shouldering the shotgun, he smirked before saying, "Well, if you're gonna blow away some freakish undead, it helps if the accessories match. Take it from me, babe, you gotta look stylish during jobs like these."

Rolling her eyes at that, Claire held up the revolver in one hand and the grenade launcher in the other. "Okay, Mister Stylish, now here's my next question: how do you expect me to carry all this?"

Before he could respond, a loud banging suddenly issued from the front of the room, the heavy door shaking as something groaned hungrily just behind it. Claire turned towards the source of the sound while Tony just walked past her, still shouldering the Remington as the door continued to rattle violently. The man confidently stopped his casual stride as he arrived next to the electronic keypad, holding the shotgun out with his right arm, the barrel steady.

"I believe the answer to that question's about to bust in."

Just as the gunslinger finished his sentence, the door flew open, the fat zombie that had been banging on the vending machine shambling in, moaning in hunger, its rotting face perfectly aligned with the end of the shotgun's barrel.

"Candy gram," Tony quipped before pulling the trigger.

A thunderous *_BOOM_* issued, followed by a heavy blast of buckshot to the ghoul's face, shredding the rotting meat, and bursting its skull open like a balloon in a spray of gore and smoke. The heavy body collapsed in a heap with a wet squishing sound.

Pumping the shotgun to eject the empty shell, the gunman called back to Claire, "Damn, door-to-door sellers sure are getting real pushy nowadays, huh? Oh, well... Least he knocked."

Placing the shotgun against the keypad terminal, he kneeled down and undid the dead man's belt, yanking it and everything on it off while Claire walked up behind him, her expression concerned.

"Don't take this wrong way, but... you _do_ remember these things were people once, right? Couldn't you try to be a little more respectful before killing them?" she inquired as Tony removed the holster and ammo pack from the belt, tossing the empty pack aside while placing the holster down.

He turned to face her, grabbing the grenade launcher from her hand, and began looping the belt around it to create a makeshift strap for it. "I _would,_ but I take the fact that they're trying to eat me a _tad_ bit personally," was his response as he handed her back the launcher and the empty holster.

Still frowning, but not saying anything more, Claire worked the holster onto her belt, slipping her new Ruger into it while slinging the grenade launcher over her shoulder.

Tony picked up the Remington, and pushed the door open, letting the girl follow him out before closing it. Redfield resumed leading her boyfriend around a corner to a set of stairs, the college student ignoring the undead still beating at the boarded window, while Redgrave contemptuously glared back at it before following his girlfriend up the stairs for the second floor.

As she moved past a lone female officer's body crumpled against a blood-stained steel shutter, she began speaking again. "We just need to cut through the showers, and we'll be on our way to my brother's office in no time."

At the mention of showers, Tony flashed a mirthful grin before saying, "_Ooh,_ let's clean up while we're in there! I'll wash you if you wash me..."

Claire stopped to turn around, giving him the side-eye as she retorted, "You may find all of this fun and exciting, but I _don't,_ so please try to stay- _TONY, LOOK OUT!_"

Her annoyance morphed into sudden terror, and before Tony could react, something slammed into him from behind, catching him off-guard, and sending him sprawling against the railing of the balcony. The female officer, no longer pretending to be a corpse, snarled viciously, her jaws snapping hungrily for the man's neck. However, the mercenary managed to wedge the shotgun between himself and the female ghoul, glowering back at her rage with his own ice-cold eyes. He thrust the shotgun up, giving him a little breathing room as it forced the zombie back, but her hands clawed for his face, the bloody nails only inches away from his warm flesh.

"I'm flattered, dollface, _really!_" he growled between clenched teeth, discreetly lowering his body ever so slightly as the zombie continued to try to claw and bite him. "_But I've already got a girl!_"

Claire frantically fumbled for her .38, managing to draw it out just as Tony suddenly smashed the stock of the shotgun against the zombie's face, stunning it, and allowing him to thrust the weapon against her neck once again, using it like a hook as he hoisted the undead up and over his shoulders in a single, smooth motion, sending the zombie careening over the balcony rail, and onto the tiled floor below, where her head collided, a sickening *_CRACK_* following as her neck and spine snapped in two in a splash of blood and tearing flesh.

Glaring down on the truly dead corpse a floor below him, Redgrave spat, "Enjoy the trip, see ya next fall."

Claire watched in stunned awe as the man calmly shouldered his shotgun while walking towards her, speaking as he did. "Oh, don't gimme that look. I can't help it if women are constantly throwing themselves at me. It's these good looks of mine, I swear."

He flashed her his best smile, but the girl just rolled her eyes and moved for the door next to a janitor's cart. "Yeah. And you're so full of shit, I'm amazed your eyes aren't brown."

She opened the door and stepped inside the Men's Locker Room. As her partner followed her in, he fanned his face when he felt the heavy humidity filling the room.

"_Phew!_ I thought you said these were the showers, not the sauna."

He quickly found the source of the heavily moist heat was a busted pipe next to the doorway into the showers, thick white steam billowing out.

"Think I know what the problem is. Busted pipe, by the looks of it," Tony snarked as Claire moved towards the pipe.

"_Really?_ Hadn't noticed..." she retorted dryly before holding her hand out. "Give me that valve I found earlier."

Tony quickly searched in one of his larger coat pockets, producing the red-wheeled handle in a second before tossing it to Claire. The young woman caught it easily, and slipped it onto an empty socket on the pipe, where it fit like a glove.

"Want me to do it?" he offered, but she shook her head, gripping the valve handle tightly as she began turning it ever so slowly, her face flushing from strain if not the hot steam issuing only a few inches away from her.

"_Nope... I've... got it...!_" she grunted out, managing to get the wheel to rotate once, the steam lessening in intensity and volume just ever-so-slightly.

Tony shrugged, letting it go. If she wanted to do it, then it was fine by him, though it would delay them by a minute or so.

As Claire strained to turn the valve around entirely for a second time, the red-coated merc allowed his eyes to wander over the room, briefly toying with checking the lockers for anything useful, when his ice blue orbs fell on an object laying atop a small pile of towels in a rack next to the lockers on his right side.

"Well, what do we have here?..." he whispered as he picked up the item.

It was a blue jewelry box. Emphasis on _jeweled,_ as the thing was covered in nickel-sized red gems, though curiously, there was a large empty spot at the top of it. As Tony looked over the box, Claire finished turning the valve for a third time with a heavy exclamation of triumph as the steam finally died completely, exposing the running shower stalls in the next room.

"Alright, that takes care of that," she said as she started through the open way, glancing back at her partner to snap, "Put that down, and come on."

"Yeah, sure," he replied half-heartedly, moving to put the box back down. But as he spied the younger Redfield slipping out of his eyesight, he instead dropped the box into his coat's pocket before following after her.

Both slowed their paces as they moved through the shower stalls, their eyes lingering on a damaged wall exposing the water heater, which had a rather large dent in it. Tony looked over the damage, from the crushed bricks and plaster littering to the floor back to the huge open holes in the walls, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"This damage is recent... Looks like something really wanted to get through here," he mused aloud.

Claire remained silent, though her eyes lingered on the damage as well before they focused ahead, her revolver rising slightly when she spotted a figure in dark coveralls sitting slumped over on a bench in the next room. Tony moved ahead of her, using his free hand to gently push her revolver down, before inching closer to the body.

When he was less than three feet away, the body crumpled to the floor with a heavy *_thump,_* making the young woman flinch and nearly raise her weapon again. Tony, undeterred, simply closed the distance between himself and the body, crouching down next to it. He pulled the corpse's right arm up, and Claire saw a long bloody cut along the interior of the man's forearm. With a disappointed sigh, the man let the arm flop back down and rose up, respectfully moving away from the body instead of just stepping over it.

The pale-haired gunslinger looked the room over, but aside from a washer and dryer combo and some lockers, there appeared to be nothing of use for them, so he waited by the door for Claire to reach his side again. Meeting her gaze, she gave him a small nod, and the young man gripped the door's handle and turned it, pushing the door itself open, allowing them to step into a new shadowed hallway, the only working light an emergency low light attached to the wall just above the door they emerged from. It was the smell that hit them first, stopping them in their tracks, giving their eyes just enough time to adjust to the dark.

The long hallway was absolutely covered in blood. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, with only a few small patches here and there not covered in the dried gore, and multiple bodies strewn about in similar conditions, completely covered in the red substance. Many missed various limbs, their faces ravaged, jaws hanging open by thin tendrils of tissue.

Tony's eyes narrowed, looking from one body to the next, while next to him, Claire covered her mouth and nose, groaning lowly in a combination of horror and disgust. The man's nostrils flared suddenly, his eyes snapping up to look directly at the ceiling, his eyes moving slowly.

The younger Redfield peered forward slightly, before speaking lowly, "The office my brother and his team were stationed in is just up ahead. C'mon, let's-"

She had been attempting to take a single step forward when Tony's hand snatched her upper arm so quickly and firmly, she came a sudden jerking halt. The young woman whirled her head around to glare at him, mouth open to snap at him when she saw the intense expression on his face, his eyes locked on the ceiling above.

Her own eyes narrowed in concern, and she whispered, "What's wrong?"

He didn't reply, continuing to stare upwards, his eyes moving to gaze down the long corridor where Claire had been trying to move to moments ago.

"Something's... not right..." he whispered back.

Claire raised her hand to point down the hallway before whispering again, "The S.T.A.R.S. Office is less than thirty feet away. I just need to grab that letter Chris sent, and we'll be on our way out of here."

Tony didn't respond, but he did release his hold on her arm before nodding, raising and readjusting his grip on the Remington, allowing the woman to take the lead again. His eyes were reluctantly focused ahead, though still they would snap back up to gaze at the ceiling once or twice as they walked slowly forward, stepping over more savaged bodies. As they passed a broken window, both Redgrave and Redfield spotted the door to her brother's office just a few feet ahead to their left-

-when above, something moved in the shadows, a rasping hiss issuing followed by _something _snapping down from the ceiling like a whip, impaling a body on the floor, and hoisting it up before Claire's horrified eyes.

Tony gently pushed her to the left, whispering harshly, "Get in there, and _don't_ open the door no matter what you hear!"

She whirled around to look at him, ready to argue with him to follow her. But when she saw the absolute focused look on his face, all traces of his usual humor were gone, his eyes cold as ice and locked on the shaking body still hanging from the ceiling. Looking from him, to the body, then back to him, Claire's lips moved silently before she reluctantly moved for the door, opening it and vanishing inside the office.

_Be careful,_ she had mouthed to Tony, who watched the body fall from the ceiling to the floor, now missing most of the flesh around its face and torso, a loud snarl rising over the slick smack of meat hitting wood. His eyes had completely adjusted to the dark now, and he could see what it was that had just made a meal out of the corpse.

"Well, aren't you an ugly son of a bitch..." he whispered to himself as he eyed the monster hanging from the ceiling above.

The simplest way to describe it was that it looked like a skinned man, exposed red muscle and sinew visible even in the low light, but the resemblance ended there. The forearms and shoulders were broad, and where the hands of a man should have been at the end of those arms were long, sharp, curved claws the slick white of bone. Its legs were thinner, and twisted at the knees, inverted like a frog or lizard's. The head was what Tony was currently studying.

On the sides of its skull was exposed pink, ridged tissue, like the lobes of a brain, small slits where a nose should have been, and an open mouth filled rows of sharp, bloodstained teeth. Tony's eyes were looking right at the spot where the creature's eyes should have been. But this monster had no eyes. Only empty holes of shadowed darkness.

The creature snarled again, a long rattling hiss, the slits where its nose should have been flaring suddenly. It began crawling across the ceiling towards Tony, its claws issuing soft *_ticks_* on contact with the wood. The red-coated gunman stood his ground, shouldering his shotgun, and watching it move, still as a statue.

He narrowed his eyes suddenly, his expression turning thoughtful. He took a single step back, putting emphasis on the back of his boot heel as he did, causing the wood under it to creak ever so slightly. The monster above him froze in its tracks, before hissing loudly, a long, slimy tongue slipping out of its mouth to whip about. To that, Tony smiled, understanding.

Holding the shotgun with one arm, he moved closer to the broken window, nudging a shard of glass still sticking out of the frame. It broke, clattering to the floor loudly.

The effect was instantaneous.

The creature roared, jumping from the ceiling towards the broken window, its clawed hands slashing out, smashing the frame into pieces on contact. Tony rolled under the monster as it leapt, coming up in a crouch just behind it, shotgun held with both hands as he squeezed the trigger. A thunderous *_BOOM_* issued, the blast of buckshot striking the monster's back in a spray of blood, flesh, and pellets.

The monster howled, in pain and anger, but it did not crumple. Instead, it whirled around, its jaws snapping open as its tongue shot out with the speed of a cobra. On pure instinct, Tony yanked his head back and to the side, the tongue sailing past his cheek by mere centimeters. His left hand shot up, grabbing the slick organ, and with a harsh shout, the mercenary spun around, and yanked as hard as he could, dragging the monster up and over himself, slamming it down hard on the floor. The sound of shattering wood mixing with tearing flesh echoed out as the monster began squealing in pain, its arms flailing about, blood erupting from its mouth, gurgling its cries.

Calmly, Tony stood back up, watching the creature flail and spasm in obvious agony, before looking at his clenched left hand, where the long tongue lay limp in his grasp. With a disgusted grunt, he let it fall to the floor, before returning his focus on the tongue's previous owner, walking back towards it while pumping the shotgun to chamber a fresh round. As he arrived next to the beast, the snowy-haired merc slammed his boot down on its neck, before shoving the barrel of the Remington into its mouth.

"Here's a hot meal, pal. On me," he snarled before pulling the trigger.

The monster's head exploded in a shower of flames and gore, the hole of its neck smoking, the floor under it a ruined mess of lead, meat and bone. Tony stared down on the body, watching it twitch and jerk in death throes, while wiping the hand that had held the creature's tongue against his coat in disgust. Raising his shotgun back up to his shoulder while crouching down to get a better look at the dead creature, the mercenary gave the corpse a closer look over before glancing at one of the many bodies littering the hallway.

"So... it's more than just zombies inside this station," he concluded.

The man in red admitted to himself he had gotten very lucky with this thing, whatever it was, having realized it tracked potential prey by sound and probably smell as well, which had allowed him to get the drop on it, and kill it as quickly as he did. It had a weird odor of its own; something he had noticed upon first stepping into this hallway. It had a kind of chemical smell, like chlorine or bleach, not to mention a whiff of rotting meat like everything else in this station. He was curious over what it was, briefly musing over the idea of it being some kind of mutation of whatever caused the outbreak of the zombie disease in Raccoon, but Tony had to put that thought on hold when another one suddenly hit him.

There was _no way_ there was just _one_ of these things in the station...

"All the more reason to get the hell out of Dodge... and _fast,_" he concluded aloud, rising back up smoothly, rolling his shoulders as he marched over to the office door, shoving it open and stepped inside.

He blinked rapidly, going from barely any light to sudden light. And before he could attempt to orient his vision, a pink and auburn blur slammed into him, making him stumble a step as lithe arms wrapped tightly around him. Blinking his icy eyes, Tony glanced down to see it was Claire who had run into him, pulling him into a tight embrace. But before he could say anything, her gaze shot up to meet his own, her grey-blue orbs filled with equal parts relief and anger.

"You colossal _idiot!_" she exclaimed, pulling her arms away to smack his chest with a small fist, making the young man flinch, more in surprise than pain. "That thing could have _killed you!_ Could you _not_ act so damn macho all the time?!" she demanded, throwing her hands up in expiration as she watched him intently.

Unable to help himself, Tony felt his grin return as he draped his other arm over the shotgun's stock, using the rifle as a brace as he casually met Claire's anger and concern with his trademarked aloofness.

"...Y'know, you're so damn _cute_ when you're angry. Nice to know you still care, babe."

That made the collegiate girl sigh, her anger deflating as she rolled her eyes and turned around, shrugging and muttering, "There's just no use with you. It's like talking to a rock..."

"A _handsome_ rock!" he called after her, following her steps as he took in the new surroundings.

The office space they stood in was about the same size as the East and West Wings' offices they had previously ventured through, though thankfully all the fluorescent lights were actually working, letting him see the light blue walls and the eight desks - four each aligned with each other in perfect squares, two on one side, two on the other, with two more tucked away in the upper right hand corner - and an entirely separate office space was in the left lower hand corner by the door the young man had entered through. Claire walked up to the middle desks, her gaze lingering on a brown leather jacket hanging off the wall under several trophy plates, which Tony quickly glanced over, noting they were all for marksman tournaments, each bearing the same name.

"_Damn..._ Your brother's some sharpshooter," he complimented, letting his eyes fall back on said brother's sister, catching the faint smile on her lips as she began looking over the boxes atop the desk, rifling through dozens of folders and papers.

"Yeah. He loved showing off in those matches, always scoring perfect headshots..." She trailed off, her smile falling away as she sighed suddenly, her eyes closing. "I can't find it."

That comment made Tony blink, his head cocking slightly as he inquired, "Find what?"

"The letter. Marvin said Chris sent a letter to one of his teammates; Jill Valentine, I think. But I've searched both of their desks, and there's no letter. I need to find it, because if it still has the envelope, I can find the address he sent it from in Europe."

Upon hearing the word 'Europe,' Tony did a double take, his expression incredulous. "_Europe?_ What the hell's he doin' all the way over there?"

Claire shrugged, her hands still rifling through the boxes, moving from one to the other. "I have no idea. Last time I talked to him, he was still angry about the investigation going on in his unit. Then he just stopped calling and sending letters. Marvin said he was on vacation, and I almost want to believe he's really on one after everything that happened in July. I just can't imagine he'd be trying to put whatever happened then behind him so soon."

The boy remained silent at that, not daring to say anything. He still had no idea what she meant by whatever incident her brother had been involved with in July, but the last time he opened his mouth to try to comfort her about it...

* * *

_Her eyes were rimmed with red and puffiness, her cheeks equally inflamed and stained with furious tears._

"_HOW **DARE** YOU SUGGEST SUCH A THING?! MY BROTHER'S **TWICE** THE MAN YOU ARE!"_

_His own anger boiled in his heart, a righteous rage that failed to numb the pain of seeing her in such a state, and his own internal loathing for the foolish words he let slip out of his mouth._

* * *

His grip on the Remington tightened as he forced the fresh memories back down, turning away from Claire to let his gaze roam over one of the desks, this one covered with dozens of computer discs. He breathed slowly but deeply, reminding himself that thinking about their fight wasn't going to do either of them any good. Right now, they had to focus on survival. They'd sort their personal problems out if- _when_ they got out of Raccoon.

Tony's eyes fell on Claire's back, admiring the insignia sewn on the back of her vest: a sultry blonde Valkyrie in a white dress holding a bomb over a row of explosives, the words 'Made in Heaven' written over the warrior woman.

He had always loved this vest of hers, noting how perfectly in suited her. When his eyes wandered back over to the leather jacket hanging off the wall, Tony was unable to resist the soft chuckle when he saw a perfect replica of Claire's insignia sewn on it. His sudden laughter broke the younger Redfield out of her obsessive search, pausing to glance at him in confusion.

"What's so funny?" she asked, tone both curious but underlined with irritation.

Tony shook his head, waving his hand at the brown jacket while explaining, "Oh, nothin'. You and your bro have a matching jacket and vest. I just think that's adorable, is all."

Claire smiled at that, moving away from the boxes while nodding and explaining, "Yeah... I've always loved that jacket. For my sixteenth birthday, he had the vest I'm wearing made for me."

She approached the desk her boyfriend was standing by, the taller man stepping away to give her better access as she began to pull out folders from the small shelf atop the desk while saying, "It has to be here somewhere. This is Jill's desk."

Tony's free hand moved to snatch the small picture frame up from the desk, his grin widening as he snorted softly, "I'm thinking this is her boyfriend." He flashed the frame towards Claire, letting her see the picture was of a golden retriever with a big open grin.

She gave her him a sly smirk as she replied, "I gotta admit, he's cuter than you."

That caused him to toss the picture back onto the desk with a huff, the crimson-clad man moving away from both the biker girl and the desk towards the room's left side, his icy gaze spotting the wire-mesh windows, and the solid steel electronic door next to a small table with only a gray computer monitor, keyboard, and hard drive atop it. Peering through the mesh, the young man spotted the familiar sight of an open gun safe... and something else atop a small bench inside the office's armory.

"Claire, come over here," he called without looking away.

Behind him, she sighed in annoyance, rounding around to quickly walk over to the pale-haired male, speaking as she did. "Tony, I'm sure those are nice guns back there, but I'm trying to focus right now-"

"_Look,_" the man interrupted, tapping his free hand's index finger against the mesh window, directing Claire's gaze to the bench. When her eyes fell on the pile of white papers and envelope resting atop it, her mouth fell open as she inhaled sharply.

"_The letter!_"

She raced over to the steel door, but upon seeing no handle to push it open with, quickly dashed back to the computer while Tony moved away, setting his shotgun down while reaching into his coat at the same time.

"You know the password to unlock the door?" he asked while producing the curious blue and gold box he had found earlier, looking down on it as he studied it over, looking for where the cover met the box itself.

"No, and the system's locked out. I can't override it," Claire suddenly said, smashing her fists down on the keyboard with a cry of, "_Dammit!_"

"Easy, babe. Don't need the Raccoon City Police billing us for property damage, now do we?" Tony snarked, his fingers wrapped tightly around the box's top as he began tugging it harshly.

She turned around to glare at him, her eyes falling on the box as she snapped, "I thought I told you to put that back?!"

"No, you said 'Put it down.' And I _did_ put it down... in my coat pock-"

His words were cut off by an audible *_snap_* as his fingers finished yanking the top off, the thin metal lock and hinges giving under him, the box and top snapping in two pieces, from which something fell out onto the floor with a heavy clatter. Tony stepped back, blinking as he eyed the ruined box, while Claire, previously looking like she was about to give him a fresh verbal lashing, suddenly bent down to pick up the item that had fallen free from the box. She rose back up, holding a metallic item that filled the entirety of her palm: a metal police badge with the same logo adorning the very office they stood in.

S.T.A.R.S.

"A S.T.A.R.S. badge?..." she whispered, looking the item over, turning it over in her palm to gaze at the back.

"Weird thing to lock up in such a fancy box," was the merc's conclusion as he tossed the ruined halves of said item aside before looking back at the younger redhead, who had wide eyes as she moved something on the back of the badge, causing a small USB port to extend from its top.

"I don't believe it..." she whispered in awe.

Puzzled, Tony looked at the small port, at a loss. "The hell is that?" he inquired, Claire looking from the badge to him, her excitement growing.

"I could _kiss you_ right now!" she exclaimed before spinning around, sticking the weird badge's port into an open slot on the hard drive, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Well... why don't you?" her boyfriend asked smoothly, leaning closer to Claire.

Unfortunately for him, the younger woman suddenly shouted a "_YES!_" in glee as a soft electronic *_ding_* issued, followed by an electronic buzz accompanying sliding metal as the armory door slid into the wall. She dashed through the open doorway before Tony could say or do anything else.

"...I'll just... hold her to that for some other time," he concluded lamely, following the young woman into the armory.

While the auburn-haired college student snatched up the letter to pore over its contents, the white-haired youth instead looked over the small private armory within the S.T.A.R.S. Office, his gaze impressed. While the racks for both small arms and rifles were completely empty, two spaces were still occupied, and, quite frankly, if Tony had any other choices, he'd pass them up for these beauties. The first was a gun-metal gray, fully tricked out Mac-10 submachine gun, complete with a long barrel silencer attached, and an extended magazine packing twice the number of bullets the machine gun normally carried. He was almost positive these modifications to the gun weren't entirely legal, not that cared one way or the other.

Above the machine gun was a large, sleek, chrome handgun, the male recognizing the weapon almost instantly, fondly remembering all the times he'd look over similar models in Nell's shop. It was a Desert Eagle .50 caliber action express. A top of the line Magnum more of a compact cannon than a handgun. A single bullet from this bad boy would blow a hole wider than Tony's own clenched fist in a single target... and anything unlucky enough to be behind it.

Whistling, the gunslinger pulled the Desert Eagle free from the gun safe, inspecting the weapon over carefully, ejecting the clip, and very pleased to see it was fully loaded, seven heavy rounds locked and loaded. He noted a curious emblem engraved on the opposite side of the handle. It was a golden star emblem, with the words 'Raccoon Police,' but on the opposite side, a stylized hawk with its talons gripping a bolt of lightning.

_Lightning Hawk._

The merc's grin returned, savage and eager to test his new weapon, when Claire spoke up suddenly, breaking him from his weapon study. "This... This does _not_ sound like Chris..."

Looking away from the Magnum, placing the heavy sidearm back on its rack in the safe, Tony took a single long step towards his girlfriend, peering down and studying the confused expression on her face as she stared down at both the letter and the envelope grasped in both hands. As she lowered the papers slightly, the crimson-coated youth took that as an invitation to deftly snatch the white sheets out of her grasp, bringing them closer to his icy gaze, and taking a moment to read their contents.

When he finished, he burst out laughing, unable to help himself. "Your brother sounds like my kind of guy!"

The letter read as follows:

**To my bestest S.T.A.R.S. buds,**

**How are you all doing in that drab, old station? Hanging in there against old Irons? Me? I just got back from a date with a hot chick. Bet you can guess what we got up to under her extra-large umbrella.**

**Europe is amazing. One month is in no way enough to even scratch the surface. Maybe I'll extend my vacation for another six months.**

**Barry, don't even think of coming to join me. Wouldn't want to make all the cute girls cry, yeah? So you just leave the babes to me.**

**Jill, if Claire tries to contact you, please let her know I'm OK.**

**Chris Redfield, August 29**

Still snickering, Tony allowed Claire to snatch the letter back, carefully folding it back up into the envelope, pausing just long enough to see the return address on it before stuffing the letter into her satchel, shaking her head the whole while.

"There's _no way_ this letter came from Chris. The last time we talked, he sounded so frustrated after that mission he and his team went on earlier in August... And that part about going on a date? I can't even _remember_ the last time he went out with someone!... I just don't get it. And why didn't he tell me he was even going to Europe?"

Claire's voice was filled with equal parts frustration and confusion, and all Tony offered in response was a shrug, picking the Magnum back up, along with another leg holster, which he quickly went about securing to his right hip, replying as he did.

"People de-stress in different ways, babe. It sounds like your big bro's having a blast overseas, and I guess he was counting on this Jill woman to let you know where he was, though I guess she forgot... Or, more likely, she was dealing with whatever the hell turned Raccoon City into the City of the Dead."

Finished adjusting his new holster and securing the Lightning Hawk in it, Tony reached for the Mac-10, pulling it off its rack in the safe while looking over for more ammunition for both weapons.

Claire watched him as he did so, furrowing her brow before asking him, "You're not seriously taking both of those, are you? I think we have plenty of guns, Tony."

"No such thing, good-lookin'. Besides, it's a total waste to just leave these here," was the young man's response, producing two extra clips for the Mac, and only one spare magazine for the Magnum, much to his disappointment.

Stuffing the Magnum clip into a coat pocket, Tony extended the machine gun in offering to the woman, who stared back at it before sighing, deciding to not even bother resisting, and took the gun from his hand, slipping its harness around her right shoulder, leaving the weapon on her side for quick and easy access.

Walking out of the armory with Claire on the tails of his coat, Tony snatched up the Remington before facing the college girl to say, "Well, we've got your brother's letter, so whaddya say we blow this popsicle stand?"

Claire nodded, adjusting the harness of the Mac-10 while saying, "Right. The last medallion to get us out of here isn't too far away. I just hope Marvin's still resting. He's gonna need his strength."

At the mention of the wounded officer, Tony's eyes narrowed. Would the man still be human when they returned? Or could he have succumbed to his injuries, and was waiting for them to return, eager to sink his teeth in hot, living flesh...

His thoughts were interrupted when Claire marched past him, calling as she opened the door back to the hallway, "C'mon, Tony."

Nodding, the taller man followed the shorter woman back into the dark, blood-soaked hall. She led him further down the hallway, slowing her gait just long enough to study the decapitated body of the skinless creature before quickly moving along, a shudder visibly rippling through her.

"I... I saw this thing earlier, when I was on the third floor... Scuttled over a window like an overgrown lizard..."

"Well, I don't think we need to worry about him anymore," was his response, nodding his head at the spot where the corpse's skull had once been.

Claire nodded as well, but still looked unsure. "Hope this thing didn't have any friends..." she murmured to herself before walking past the body, and around the corner.

"You and me both, babe," he mumbled back, more to himself than in actual response.

The two arrived at the end of the hall, passing a door on the left in favor of the door just past it, the lock on it secured but quickly opened by Claire, letting the two step out into a better lit lounge area. Tony eyed the Unicorn Statue across from them as she headed for the next door, the man in red voicing his displeasure at the eyesore of a statue.

"_Ugh._ You'd think these cops would've kept the cooler museum pieces - like a dinosaur fossil, or something - instead of _that_ ugly thing."

"Probably better for us they didn't. The last thing we need is a zombie T-Rex or Triceratops smashing around," was Claire's rebuttal as she opened the door, stepping over a heavyset corpse missing most of its head.

"Speak for yourself! That sounds _awesome!_" he replied, following her into the large, if not messy Library of the station, noting the fallen tomes and various bodies of cop and civilian alike littering the floor.

His gaze narrowed when his ears caught a slick crunching sound not too far away, causing him to pause at the base of the stair steps Claire was currently climbing. The college girl reached the first turn on the stairs before realizing her companion had ceased following her.

Looking back down and seeing his distracted expression, she called out. "Tony, what's the hold up?"

Raising his hand up, index finger out, the platinum-haired youth asked, "You hear that, right?"

The girl blinked, looking confused, before realizing what he was referring to. "It's just a zombie eating a body behind those stacks over there. C'mon, let's stop wasting time, and get the last medallion."

With that explanation, the young woman resumed going up the steps, Tony following her, all the while shaking his head in disbelief. "Never thought there'd be a day where 'a zombie eating a dead body' was a rational explanation for a weird sound..."

Crossing the balcony way - Tony had peered over the side to confirm the sight of a zombie hungrily ripping the flesh off a corpse's arm - the two arrived at another door. Claire stepped inside first, gingerly moving around the body hanging from the ceiling.

Tony, meanwhile, casually shoved the corpse aside with a quip, "How's it hangin', fella?"

"It's just around this corner, locked up in this pen," she explained, pointing towards a statue tucked away in the upper left-hand corner behind some strong-looking iron bars, the floor of the pen littered with bodies.

The two stopped in front of the boarded-up door of the pen, with Claire moving aside to allow Tony a better look. The young man blinked when he saw the two long bricks resembling clay wrapped in plastic, with bands labeled 'C4' wrapped around them.

"Plastique? In a police station?" he asked aloud, giving his partner a concerned look, but the young woman simply shrugged.

"Don't look at me. I have no idea why it's there, or why someone would even set this up. Can you tear the boards down, or are we gonna have to look for a safer way to detonate these charges?"

Tony waved her questions off, snatching the two bricks of explosives off the impromptu wall, and tossing them aside, the heavy *_thumps_* they made making the startled girl flinch and cry out, "Are you _insane?!_ Those could explo-"

Her words were cut off by the sound of the merc's boot connecting with the many boards nailed up in the pen's doorway, the black leather snapping through the heavy wood-like paper with a loud crash, splinters flying about as the boards fell to the floor with a clatter.

Setting his leg back down, scraping the sole of his boot as he did so, Tony extended a hand in invitation to Claire, his smirk ever-present. "After you, milady."

With a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, followed by a shake of her head, Claire stepped past Redgrave and into the pen, minding the bodies of the two men on the floor, one in a cop's uniform, the other in regular clothes, both of them covered in blood, the exposed flesh of their faces and arms revealing long slash marks. Tony eyed the bodies before looking back to his partner, seeing her in front of the statue's base, and pulling out a small notebook from her satchel, quickly flipping through the pages before looking at the plate on the statue, and groaning in displeasure.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"The plates are all scratched up. I can barely see the symbols... It might take me a minute to find the right ones," Claire explained, her fingers moving over the slots on the statue's plate, sliding one over and then another.

Tony nodded while saying, "Take your time, babe. We're almost at the finish line, anyway, so what's another minute?"

No sooner had he finished his words did a loud, shrieking hiss like scream echo through the enclosed space of the storage room, freezing both. He recognized the cry almost instantly, while Claire shot him a look, her eyes wide and filled with terror. The white-haired mercenary raised his hand to his lips, index finger tapping against them in the universal '_Shhh_' expression.

She nodded in return, reluctantly looking away from him back to the statue's plates, her fingers moving them more slowly now to silence the soft metallic scraping they issued as they turned. Tony looked away from her to let his icy gaze scan what little there was to see in the storage room, his eyes narrowed, and the grip on the Remington tightening. A heavy *_thump_* suddenly resounded, making the young woman freeze, and the gunslinger snapping his head to his right from where the sound originated from.

The soft groan of a zombie was a relieving, familiar noise to them, as the ghoul that had previously been hanging from the ceiling staggered about, lumbering towards Tony with its arms stretched out. The man extended the shotgun out with a single arm, lining the unwavering barrel between the zombie's eyes before pulling the trigger. The load *_BOOM_* issued from the rifle was deafening in such enclosed quarters, but Claire thankfully had both hands covering her ears to muffle it as best as they could. Tony, meanwhile, was unbothered by the noise.

But the man realized too late that the roar of the shotgun's blast had drowned out the hungry roar of the skinless monster that lunged from a broken ceiling rafter where the zombie had previously been hanging, the creature having dislodged the ghoul after tracing the two live humans nearby, its sensitive hearing having led it to them after hearing the wooden boards crash down. Tony was completely off-guard as the monster slammed into his torso, sending him flying back into the pen, the Remington clattering on the floor and far from his reach as the monster screeched, its clawed hands whipping about in a frenzy.

Claire screeched, "_TONY!_" as she saw the man shoving and grasping at the beast's hideous face, keeping its sharp teeth away from his neck while its claws futilely tore away at the wall behind him.

The mercenary grit his jaw down tight, cursing his stupidity at letting the zombie distract him from the real threat. And with his hands struggling to grasp the thing and keep it away from himself at the same time, he couldn't reach any of his weapons. A long, red, slimy tongue suddenly slithered out of the monster's jaw, the long organ whipping around, strings of drool splattering Tony's coat as the organ suddenly pulled back, the sharp-looking tip aimed for his right eye-

Six loud *_bangs_* issued from not far away, one after another in rapid succession, six bullets slamming into the monster's exposed brain in an explosion of blood, flesh, and fire. The skinless beast let out a sharp screech of pain before pitching back and falling to the floor, its limbs spasming in death throes before going still. Tony blinked, confused, before turning his gaze to his right, and seeing Claire standing by the statue, the Ruger Blackhawk he had given her earlier out, the barrel smoking, her expression equal parts shocked and terrified.

"Heh... Nice shootin' there, cowgirl," he said after a moment, his grin returning as he pushed himself up.

Claire was at his side in a heartbeat, speaking frantically all the while. "Oh my god, Tony, are you alright?! Ugh, what was I _thinking?!_ I could have _shot you!_ I'm so sorr-"

"Hey, hey, press the brakes down, babe!" he interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her while continuing to speak. "I'm _alright._ You saved my life from that thing with that quick shooting you did... You get the medallion?"

His calm words and sudden inquiry of the medallion seemed to snap her from her panicked daze, making her blink and shake her head.

"No, I... I need to set it to the last plate. Just one second."

Tony nodded, letting her head back to the statue while he exited the pen to pick up the shotgun, and move towards the skinless monster's body, where a pool of blood was spreading around its head. Glancing back at occupied woman, seeing her completely focused on her task, the young man switched the rifle to his left hand to use his right to tug the collar of his black shirt aside, staring at the long gash the creature's claw had left at the junction where his shoulder and collar bone met; an unlucky cut for him. Before his very eyes, the wound was slowly shrinking, the long red line sewing itself up into a bright pink scar that would fade away just as quickly.

Behind him, he heard Claire's approaching footfalls, so he let his hand fall away, turning to face her while balancing the shotgun across his shoulders. She proudly held up a brass medallion the size of her palm, the image of a maiden holding a pouring jug engraved on its surface. Tony met her gaze evenly as she spoke up.

"Last one."

"Then let's make like a couple of hockey sticks, and get the puck outta Dodge. Whaddya say?" he asked with a grin.

Claire nodded, moving for the door while the young man discreetly checked his shoulder again, pleased to see only a small splash of blood was left where the cut had been.

"C'mon, Tony. Let's get out of here," she beckoned him from the open door. Without a word, he followed her, leaving the dead creature behind.

And hopefully, this station and Raccoon City shortly after.

* * *

The trip back to the Main Hall was uneventful and brief, the young couple descending the stairs, Claire two at a time in eager excitement, while Tony cautiously followed at a slower pace, his icy eyes locked on Marvin's still form on the bench across from the Goddess Statue. The girl made it to the front of the statue's base, placing the Maiden Medallion in the center of the plate at the statue's base between two others: one medallion engraved with a roaring lion, the other the head of a unicorn. She stepped back just as her boyfriend arrived next to her, watching as the base of the statue and part of the floor under it moved swiftly and smoothly, stone and tile sliding away to reveal a small staircase and iron-barred door.

Claire descended the steps, pushing at the door's handle. The door swung open, its hinges squeaking softly.

"Bingo," Tony stated.

Claire nodded, giving the newly revealed stairwell a quick look over with her flashlight before looking back at him to say, "Looks like it leads underground."

"Good. Now we can get outta this zombie-infested hellhole," was his reply as the woman quickly walked back up, and moved towards the sleeping officer.

He followed her movements, his grip on the shotgun's handle tightening. The policeman remained motionless atop the bench, his unhealthy pallor further illuminated by the small kerosene lamp atop the small table next to him.

"Marvin? Hey, Marvin! We did it! We found the way out!" Claire exclaimed in excitement as she quickly moved to kneel closer to the wounded cop. "Marvin, come on, wake up. Let's get you out of here." She reached out to grab Marvin's bloody hands. "Let's go-"

-The cop sprung up much too quickly for a man with a serious wound on his side.

Tony's reaction was instantaneous. The shotgun was out and leveled, a fresh round chambered as he pumped the gauge, the sound of metal racking mixing with the heavy gasps from Marvin as he looked about wildly, his brown eyes falling on the shotgun barrel currently less than five feet away from his face. Claire whirled around, her own grey-blue orbs wide as saucers with shock, before her gaze narrowed in fresh outrage.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?! Put that down _right now!_" she shouted, moving herself between the Remington and the officer.

Reluctantly, Tony lowered the shotgun, hardly reacting as Claire smacked the barrel down further to march up to the taller man, and glare angrily up into his suddenly controlled, neutral expression.

"I know you like playing with your stupid guns as much as any other five year old with a new toy, but don't go pointing them at someone like they're-"

"_Claire..._ It's alright..." Marvin's breathy, exhausted, and pained voice somehow managed to rise over hers, and interrupt her rant.

At the sound of his voice, the young woman's rage evaporated instantly, anger quickly cooling into concern as she rounded around to kneel back down next to the officer, who was gripping his wound tightly, agony contorting his features. The man in red could only watch silently, steeling himself for the inevitable.

"Marvin, it's gonna be okay," she reassured, her tone low and soothingly gentle. "We got the passage open. Now we can all get out of here-"

"No, I... Just go... Save yourself," Marvin rasped out, waving one bloody hand at her in sudden dismissal.

The woman shook her head fiercely at that, shock mixing with concern in her expression as she quickly spoke on, "No, we can get you to a hospital! It's not-"

"_Claire..._" Tony called from behind her, his tone sad, but firm. "He can't come with us. He's been bit."

At that, she angrily rounded towards him, her annoyance returning as she glared up at Tony while snapping, "What's _that_ supposed to mean, Anthony?!"

The snowy-haired man paused for a moment, unsure of how to explain, but it was Marvin who spoke next.

"You asked me... what caused all this..." he gasped out, each word seeming to task his waning strength in greater amounts. But still, he spoke on as Claire turned to face him again. "We don't... know for sure how... how it spread initially... but it became very clear... after we brought in the wounded..."

He slowly removed his hand from his wound, exposing it to the young woman. Tony caught the unmistakable smell of rotting meat emanating from it, the torn flesh having turned a sickly, rotten, grayish green. Claire's eyes widened with horror... and understanding.

"We quickly understood... Every victim... was infected by the zombie bites..." the dying police officer finished, letting his hand fall to his side as he slumped against the back of the bench, sweat beading his forehead.

Claire shook her head, mouthing the word "No..." over and over.

The lieutenant looked at her, his expression filled with fresh pain. "_Please,_ Claire... We both know how this is going to end... Get out of the city."

"I can't just leave you here..." she begged in a small voice that trembled.

Marvin's face twisted in agony, and he looked away while whispering, "Claire, please... _Go..._ Do this for me."

Unable to find her voice, her eyes shimmering wetly with unshed tears, Claire rose back to her feet, taking a single step back, before quickly turning and bolting for the gated door under the statue. Tony watched her go silently, heaving a heavy sigh once she was out of sight. Closing his eyes briefly, he steadied himself before opening them, turning to look down at the officer.

"I can... help you... If you want," he offered quietly, raising the shotgun back up. That was all the elaboration he needed.

But Marvin shook his head, meeting the younger man's icy gaze with hardened eyes.

"No... I'll..." He drew his sidearm, laying it atop his lap. "I'll... I can take care of myself."

Tony nodded, understanding.

Truthfully, he wanted to offer something else - anything else - to this lone survivor who had helped Claire survive before his arrival. But he had nothing else to give.

Reluctantly, Tony shouldered the Remington, and began to turn to follow after his girlfriend when Marvin's voice called to him. "Anthony... right?"

At the sound of his name on such a breathless and pained voice, the man in red turned to face the dying man again. The officer managed to steady his agonized expression into one of steely resolve, and Tony waited for his last words.

"You keep her safe. You get her out of this nightmare... _Alive,_ you hear me?... That's an order." Marvin's words were firm as stone, his expression fierce.

Tony nodded, his own eyes hardening into icy stones. He would honor this last request, as it was his only goal. He'd get Claire out of this city, and back to her brother...

Even if he had to go out into the streets, and kill every last one of those zombies with his bare hands.

Seeing the young man's affirmation, the mortally wounded police officer closed his eyes, and allowed himself to slump back against the bench, his breathing heavy and labored. Tony looked away, moving down the steps, and through the iron wrought gate. No sooner did he step completely over the threshold did the sudden sound of sliding stone and grinding metal return, and the open passageway sealed itself shut once more, locking them in...

And Marvin _out._

"...Thank you, Marvin," he whispered to himself.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he continued down the stairs.

* * *

The air stank of stale bear, sour sweat, and the lingering haze of nicotine-laced smoke, but Grue had long gotten used to these smells in Bobby's Cellar.

The older man sat at the bar like he always did, nursing a glass of bourbon while the rest of the Cellar was in a frenzy, the various gathered mercenaries walking, talking, and generally moving about as they waited impatiently for Enzo and/or Morrison to arrive with fresh jobs. Bobby himself was washing a dirty cup with an even dirtier rag, the huge man paying no mind to anyone else.

Grue took a long pull from his glass before looking at the empty seat next to him. It was Tony's seat; the spot the younger man would sit at and eat one of his strawberry sundaes from the bar, which was the only thing he ever ordered from Bobby, who always complied. Before he had established himself in the Cellar, Grue recalled the older, arrogant mercs who would mock Tony for his eating habits.

He smirked to himself, recalling their dumbfounded expression when the kid had returned from a job, his clothes riddled with bullet holes, with nary a scratch on the man himself. They quickly stopped their jeering from that day on. Grue inhaled a heavy sigh as he looked away from Tony's spot, his thoughts running.

_Kid's been gone for too long... I didn't think Claire was **that** mad at him, but somethin' feels off..._

He pushed those thoughts and the strange, lingering worry in his gut aside, his eyes traveling to a lone table in the far corner, where sat Bobby's Cellar's newest patron.

The man was tall and lithe, but lean, his thin arms and legs hiding the coiled strength in them, which was not unlike a rattlesnake tensing before it struck out. He was wearing a dark suit, golden button links visible on either forearm of his black jacket, his pants matching, the jacket only partially buttoned up to expose the dark turtleneck underneath, the ends of a black scarf visible around his neck. Unusual clothing for such warm weather, but the man showed no discomfort. He showed no expression at all, for his entire head and his exposed hands were wrapped tightly with white bandages.

Only his eyes were visible, cold and narrowed. Staring straight ahead at the exact same spot Grue had just glanced at. The seat usually occupied by Tony.

The man rested one arm atop the table he sat at, the other currently gripping a long, black lacquered sheathe of his eastern blade: a katana. His bandaged fingers occasionally tightened over the ornately-woven hilt every now and again.

The man ignored all others in the bar, his gaze locked on Tony's seat, and _only_ that.

Grue didn't want to admit it... but there was something about this man, this stranger who was only known as 'Gilver,' that unsettled him. And it wasn't the fact that he was able to fight Tony himself to a standstill in both a sword duel and hand-to-hand combat, quickly establishing himself as exceptionally skilled with that simple act.

No, there was something just... _off_ about him. A general sense of wrongness he couldn't shake away. He would never admit it out loud, but Gilver _intimidated_ Grue.

Finishing his drink, the old man eyed the lone clock hanging over the entrance to Bobby's Cellar, unable to understand why Enzo and Morrison were so late-

-when the door swung open suddenly as a short, portly man scrambled in, calling out in a voice laced with a thick Jersey accent. "_Hurry da hell up, Morrison! They need ta hear this!_"

All the mercenaries in the bar stopped to watch as a tall, well-dressed older gentleman followed Enzo, the dark skin of his face slightly lined, the hair along his temples turning a dull gray.

"Hold your horses, little man! I ain't as young as I used to be, and if you don't slow down, you're likely to hurt yerself."

Enzo rounded around, standing at the bar, and waving his arms in a panicked frenzy. "Turn th' radio up, already, ya old geezer!"

With a glare, Morrison suddenly brought his arm up, revealing the large radio he was carrying. Dropping it heavily onto the bar counter, the liaison fiddled with various dials as the shorter man shouted at the annoyed mercenaries venting their irritation for his tardiness.

"_The hell you been, Enzo?!_"

"_You better have a good reason...!_"

"_-really need a job, man, c'mon!_"

"_QUIET, YA BUMS! YOU ALL NEEDA HEAR DIS!_"

Enzo's shout silenced them all, just as Morrison stepped away from the radio, a woman's voice issuing from the speakers.

_"-For those of you just tuning in, a state of emergency has been declared in Raccoon City. The Midwestern city has just been placed under quarantine by the United States Armed Forces. Reports of a biohazard outbreak in the city have been partially confirmed, with conflicting reports detailing it as a so-called 'cannibal disease,' with thousands already infected inside the city itself. Once again, a state of emergency has just been declared..."_

The reporter continued her spiel, but Grue wasn't listening any longer, his eyes wide, the anxiety and worry in his gut returning ten-fold as the patrons of the bar began to discuss amongst themselves.

"Ah, _jeez,_ Tony!..." he murmured to himself, which made Morrison glance at him, the older man lighting a cigar before asking him.

"Tony? Where's he at, Grue? I haven't seen him in a while..."

The older mercenary rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired as he replied in a mumble, "_Raccoon..._ He went to Raccoon City."

Enzo rounded about, his eyes bugging out behind his shades. "You fo'real, Grue?! What the hell would Tony go to some shit-splat town like Raccoon for?!"

"His girl, Claire," he explained, rubbing his face with one hand while reaching for his smokes with the other. "They got into a tiff over somethin', and Tony followed her to Raccoon City to apologize..."

Morrison inhaled a long drag from his stogie, exhaling a long cloud of smoke before replying, "The kid's good. Even if he don't got a gun on him, he always has that pigsticker of a sword with him."

Grue shook his head, sticking a cigarette in his mouth before saying, "Naw, Tony never takes his sword with him when he's with Claire. She doesn't know about his 'profession.'"

He liked to think that Tony kept Claire in the dark about his lifestyle as a mercenary for her safety, but the old man also heard from his partner that her older brother was a cop, so it was probably for the kid's own good that he didn't tell the girl the truth about the shady nature of his work...

"...A woman... How curious."

The voice was cold, and smooth as steel, making Grue freeze up, his hands holding his lighter shaking as he recognized the voice. Rounding around, the older man saw Gilver standing directly behind him, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping his sword. The darkly-dressed man paid no attention to Grue's shocked face, or Enzo and Morrison's perturbed expressions, his eyes still locked on Tony's seat.

Then he turned around, and moved for the door.

Seeing this, Enzo called, "_Hey, Gilver, wait up! I got a great job lined up for ya! Cash up front! A hundred g's, my man!_"

Gilver didn't slow his gait or indicate he even heard Enzo's words. The bandaged man shoved the door open, and was gone.

Grue sat motionless at his seat, while around him, the bar lit back up in a frenzy as the men fought over themselves to claim Gilver's now-open job. But he himself couldn't look away from the door, his worry now morphing into genuine fear for Tony and Claire.

"...Be safe, kid..." he whispered to himself, praying that whatever was happening in Raccoon wasn't nearly as bad as his gut was telling him it was...

And that Gilver had left the bar simply because he saw no challenge in a job without Tony to compete against.

* * *

Outside, Gilver slowly walked down the empty streets, his eyes, the only visible part of him, still narrowed, but now in consideration and deep thought.

Tony Redgrave had a lover. A woman, who knew next to nothing about his mercenary lifestyle. How curious, indeed.

And he had followed her to a city in the middle of a viral outbreak that made men turn into cannibals... all the while, unarmed, without his sword.

The man in black slowed his gait before stopping completely under the bright glow of a lone streetlight.

He stood motionless for several moments.

Then...

His bandaged mouth curled into an excited grin.

The streetlight's bulb suddenly began to flicker, casting the street into darkness.

When the light returned, Gilver was gone.

* * *

AN UPDATE AT LAST!

Sorry ya'll had to wait so long, but this chapter is SUPER LONG, so I hope that makes up for it.

One player exits the game of survival horror...and another arrives.

I think you all know who's under those bandages...

Massive shout-outs to my buddy Da-Awesom-One for betaing as always! And a huge thanks for every new reader, follower and reviewer who has taken the time to read these drabbles of mine.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Fight From the Inside

* * *

The rain no longer fell in heavy waves, coming down more lightly now, in less volume. But the darkened sky above showed no sign of breaking away, the storm persisting. Under the faint light of the Mizoil station that Tony and Claire had fled from several hours ago, dozens of undead still remained, some wandering the lot of the station. Others remained stationary, swaying on rotting legs, and all groaning in unfulfilled hunger, their filmy eyes unable to focus on anything. Above, a low rumble of thunder emanated from the heavy clouds, the wind picking up in a sudden gust that sent rain drops flying, splattering the undead while the overhead lights of the Mizoil canopy began to flicker and wane, casting the lonely road into darkness for several seconds.

The lights of the station flickered back on again in moments, with none of the zombies indicating they even noticed the brief loss of illumination. A female ghoul in a gray shirt and torn jeans, however, began to turn its head ever so slightly, her limp and dirty hair having mostly fallen off from the visible rotting around her skull, a long, bloody cut across her neck a bright red against her nearly white skin. The female zombie's clouded eyes stared off in the darkened road beyond, from which both Tony Redgrave and Claire Redfield had arrived earlier.

From that darkness, a lone figure began to emerge, the shadows seeming to cling to his darkly-dressed form as he emerged from the deeper darkness, the footsteps of his boots only making a faint and soft *_click_* as the soles traveled across the asphalt. As the figure walked along the lone road, approaching the gas station closer by the moment, the lights of the fuel station revealed the figure had heavy white bandages wrapped tightly around their head and hands, while a large case hung across his back, the strap over their left shoulder, and gripped in their right hand was a long, thin black scabbard.

As the figure emerged completely from the darkness and into the weak electronic light, the zombies, all now hearing the figure's soft footsteps, began to stagger and stumble towards the person. Hungry moans and groans issued from their throats, some raising their arms out like a sleepwalkers, each ghoul's eyes cloudy, filmed over, or filled with blood, yet locked on the solitary morsel bearing the warm flesh and blood they so craved.

The figure continued to walk, seemingly paying the undead no mind, their eyes narrowed and focused ahead. It was only when they spotted more zombies approaching from the direction they moved for did they finally slow and cease their pace. The figure turned his head to the right, finally acknowledging the dozens of ghouls that were advancing for him. The man's eyes narrowed, annoyance flashing in his cold orbs.

Shrugging his left shoulder, he let the long, black, leather guitar case he had been carrying land on the asphalt with a heavy clatter, along with a curious ring of striking metal. The man turned to face the horde of undead that seemed to surround him on all sides now, their moans of hunger - of the damned - swelling into an uproar of voracious gluttony-

-when the man's right hand moved so fast it was a dark blur, grasping the long, ornately-wrapped hilt of his blade, drawing the weapon out rapidly, the sound of sliding metal brief and almost muted by the moans of the ghouls all around him. The long eastern katana spun rapidly through the air before coming to a sudden halt as the blade descended in a single stroke.

Almost instantly, the horde of zombies all came to a stop, many of their hungry moans suddenly silenced.

The bandaged swordsman, the man only known as 'Gilver' to the patrons of Bobby's Cellar, raised his blade, sliding it back into its lacquered sheathe smoothly, the hilt connecting with the tang in a soft *_click._*

Then, as if that single noise were a signal, the sound of the soft rain was drowned out by all-encompassing, hideous and slick *_squelch_* of tearing meat. Across the dozens and dozens of bodies of silent corpses, long cut marks appeared across their heads, arms, torsos and legs. Perfectly in-sync with each other, the rotting flesh exploding in bursts of coagulated gore, the torn and flayed flesh and limbs collapsed on the ground with heavy, wet *_thumps._*

Gilver's contempt-filled eyes studied the various bits and body parts of the zombies for a moment, before his eyes fell on a pair of parked motorcycles in the gas station's lot. Moving across the road and into the station's parking area, the mysterious swordsman approached the bikes, his eyes on the familiar, darker, red-hued one. Once he reached the bike, he looked it over for a moment, his gaze falling on the second motorcycle. A Harley, this one also red, but brighter than the other. Studying the motorcycles for another moment, his gaze moved away from them towards the bloodstained concrete in front of the station's door, where another zombie was futilely banging at the glass panel, blood-shot eyes locked on the bandaged man as he walked closer towards the blood stains.

Gilver's eyes moved away from the blood, tracing faint tread marks left in the ground, more than likely from a vehicle speeding away from the station to escape the living dead. His eyes locked on the ground, his light footsteps following the faint marks, the darkly-dressed man seemed not to notice one of the more intact zombies, this one's head still on its neck, minus a waist and its left arm, but desperately grasping with its remaining right hand for the sword wielder's right leg, only just out of reach. As the man passed the ghoul, he reacted with a level of casualness a normal person swatting a bothersome fly would.

Without looking away from the tire marks he was still following, his right hand shot for his sword's hilt, drawing the blade out so fast it was a blur, before the sharp tip buried itself into the zombie's head in the fraction of a second it took to blink. The creature went limp with a heavy sigh, its fingers limply curling, its torn body going still. Ripping his sword out of the corpse's skull, spinning it once to fling the tainted blood off its pristine surface before sheathing it again, his gait came to a stop a little ways further down the road, where the tread marks vanished, the fleeing vehicle's speed leveling out.

Gilver stared ahead at the far-off outline of the nearby city, noting how dark it seemed, with only a few lights on in the many buildings looming ahead. His bandaged head inclined to his right ever so slightly, his gaze falling on a green sign about six feet away from himself. His narrowed eyes studied the white painted words.

WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY, it read.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a sneer.

Twisting around, walking back to the spot where he had dropped the long black guitar case he had procured from the shabby apartment Tony Redgrave lived in, Gilver shouldered the large case with ease, like it weighed nothing at all despite the faint, but heavy metal rattling inside of it.

Turning around to face forward once again, he resumed his casual pace down the highway road, leaving the scattered body parts of the so-called victims of this 'cannibal disease' behind him. That they were obviously zombies straight out of a cheap horror film meant nothing to him. He did not care that they were once people somehow turned into undead monsters out for the blood and flesh of the living, for he did not fear shambling corpses.

He feared _nothing._

And if Anthony was somewhere in this city of the dead, he would sense him soon enough. Gilver found himself wondering how Tony and his woman were handling the situation. He knew the red-coated mercenary was still alive, for even he, in his current state, could easily handle the walking dead regardless of whether he was with or without his sword, though more than likely he would still have been armed with a firearm of some sort as a means of defense.

However, the mysterious mercenary was somewhat disappointed to see so many undead left in their miserable state of false life at the station he arrived in, despite the fact that he knew Tony had stopped here before going to the city. The man could have killed these creatures even without his sword... so why _hadn't_ he? Perhaps because of the woman? Had they met up here, and the man had chosen to cowardly flee in the name of her safety?

Gilver scoffed under his breath, the sound further muffled by the bandages over his mouth.

Foolishness.

Still, it didn't matter. If Anthony was holding himself back simply to keep this girl he was enamored of in the dark about his true nature - a nature Gilver suspected even Redgrave was trying to fool himself about - then the time for denial and lies was coming to an end. He had searched him out to see to that personally.

Though the fact that someone new and unexpected was now involved made it all the more interesting. He had been preparing to contend with Tony's partner, Grue, as well as that old woman gunsmith he often visited, the so called '.45 Calibur Virtuoso' named Nell Goldstein, to force him to remember what he had buried away. To open his eyes, so to speak.

But if this woman the man in red had followed into a city-turned-necropolis filled with the undead - and perhaps other monstrosities - meant so much to him... then perhaps _she_ was the key to forcing Redgrave to accept the truth about himself.

Gilver's fingers tightened over the hilt of his katana, anticipation brimming inside him like a furnace, but he forced such feelings down, willing his burning blood to cool for the time being. Such emotions were best ignored... or set aside for another time.

He would adjust his plans accordingly for this new development. But in the meantime, he still had to find the two so-called lovers within this diseased city of the damned.

It would not take long, though. He had found Anthony easily enough the first time, and this search wouldn't take even half as long. The closer he got to the city itself, the more he could _feel_ the mercenary's unique presence. Once he had enough of a sufficient 'sense' for the white-haired man, finding him would take but a moment.

Then, once he had located him, and returned the item Tony had so carelessly left behind, he would observe him with his 'girl,' as the man Grue had called her. He would watch him from the shadows, as he originally planned. Maybe even amuse himself by killing time in the city itself. A side-project, if you would; something to keep his mind sharp... and his blade even sharper.

Then, when the time was right...

Gilver's sneer became an excited grin.

Then the party would _truly_ begin...

* * *

With slumped shoulders and a heavy heart, Tony descended the secret stairway steps that would lead him into the hidden room Claire had unlocked under the Goddess Statue inside the R.P.D.'s Main Hall. Just two steps from the very base of them, however, he stopped, his forlorn expression morphing into a frown as he craned his head back to peer over his shoulder at the locked door back above, hidden in the darkness. When he had last seen Marvin, the infected officer had drawn his sidearm, prepared to ensure there would not be another undead wandering the overrun station...

But the red-clad youth had yet to hear a single shot, even through the heavy lair of concrete and stone separating them. His eyes narrowed, his thoughts running.

_Must be... psyching himself up, before..._

Yeah, that had to be it. It wasn't exactly an easy thing to do, and he felt like such a heel for his half-assed 'offer' to the man. Then he realized he was waiting to hear a man end his own life, the raw morbidity of that making him feel suddenly sick to his stomach.

_This place is starting to lose its appeal, _he concluded internally with a grimace, finishing his descent down the stairs.

As soon as he did, the lights flickered from above him, making him blink rapidly as his icy eyes strained to adjust. They did after a moment, and he took in the new surroundings he and his girlfriend had found themselves in.

Tony shouldered the Remington before musing aloud, "Huh. Not exactly what I pictured when you said 'secret passageway.'"

The best way to describe the somewhat cozy-looking room was as someone's dream den, complete with a large, well-made and polished wooden desk in front of several full book cases, another small table set to the left, where curiously sat what appeared to be a small replica of the station itself. Claire was standing to the desk's side, where a large crate was stacked against the wall.

She currently had her back to him, arms crossed over her chest while faint shudders rippled through her lithe frame. The man's normal cocky expression had fallen away to one of genuine sympathy and understanding as he made his way towards the young woman.

"Hey... You wanna talk?" he offered gently.

She was in obvious distress over Marvin's fate, and that was oddly comforting realization at how much the officer must have meant to her in their short time of knowing each other, helping her survive the station as she searched for the means of escaping it before his arrival.

He couldn't say he wasn't somewhat jealous towards Marvin for protecting and aiding her when he couldn't, but he shoved those feelings aside, instead embracing his admiration for the man doing so despite his deteriorating condition. Marvin had been a real cop until the bitter end, and Tony vowed to honor his last request. He would get Claire out of the hellhole Raccoon City had become, no matter what.

The auburn-haired girl shook her head slightly, her voice speaking up, carrying a faint quiver that seemed to sync with the soft shudders of her body as she replied quietly, "No, I... I-I just need a minute, Tony. Then we'll go. Okay?"

He nodded while affirming, "Sure. Take your time."

If she needed to grieve, he would let her have that much. It also gave him the time to turn his thoughts away from Marvin towards this new, mysterious room they found himself. His eyes scanned over its contents, a part of him both somewhat impressed and further bewildered. At first, he had simply wanted to write the room off as possibly something left over from the station's heyday as a museum, as Claire had mentioned earlier, but now he wasn't so sure.

He moved away from from the grieving girl, and towards the other table, his free hand reaching into one of his coat's pockets, and producing a few shotgun shells. He began to reload into the rifle, mostly to give his hands something to do, the sound of racking metal familiar and calming, allowing his mind to focus as his eyes studied the many books shelved around him along the walls. His gaze narrowed, and as he finished reloading the weapon, he placed the shotgun down against the table's side while moving closer towards the shelves to get a better look at the books, confirming his suspicions.

_These are first editions of some of the classics... Hemingway, Steinbeck, Stevenson, Shakespeare, and those are just the names I recognize. They're in pretty good condition, too. No way was this cheap... Who the hell, in a police department of a little city like Raccoon, could afford these? And why in the world would they store 'em down in a cozy little hidey-hole underneath the station itself?... Something here _**_stinks,_**_ and it's **not** the zombies rotting upstairs..._

He moved away from the bookshelves and towards the small display where a small scale replica of the station itself sat, which he found to be an oddity out of almost everything else he had seen so far in this strange, secret room, though its presence somewhat confirmed his suspicion that this room was a more recent addition to the station. Tony found himself suddenly eager to ask Claire how she had learned of the station's hidden passageway, because it seemed rather far-fetched that Raccoon's finest would know about such a ludicrous location under their desks. And the more his mind ran over all the oddities of the station itself, the more he began to suspect it was somehow connected with the mysterious zombie plague ravaging the city.

_If this room was an actual bunker like I'd been half-expecting, then its secrecy might have made sense. But _**_this?_**_ This den is some weirdo's dream brought to life, and definitely cost more to make and build than whatever they sunk into renovating this place from a museum to a police station ever did,_ he concluded with a frown.

"...Tony?"

Claire's voice broke him from his thoughts, and he quickly turned around to let his eyes fall on her. Her own grey-blue orbs were slightly red-rimmed and puffy, but she wasn't shaking any longer, her cheeks dry, and her expression focused once again as her gaze held his own once more easily. Her strength was something he absolutely loved about her. Her iron will to press on despite her obvious inner turmoil.

"I'm ready now... Let's get out of here," she declared, hooking her thumb towards the open pathway behind her.

Nodding, Tony bent over to grasp and heft the shotgun back up over his shoulder, before saying, "Lead the way, babe."

Following after Claire, the two walked through the only other open passage in the small secret room, passing one last table with some marble figurines adorning it - also not cheap, and just as out of place as everything else down here, Tony noted - turning left to find an old-fashioned elevator waiting for them. The woman pulled the gate open and stepped inside, with her boyfriend stepping in after her, and closing the gate as she hit the only button on the right wall of the cart. A soft *_ding_* issued, the button lighting up as the cart shifted, beginning to descend.

In moments, they arrived at their next destination, with Tony taking the lead to yank the gate open, his eyes surveying the suddenly-darkened area they found themselves in. Peering around, he spotted a set of stairs to his left, leading deeper into the shadows below. Gripping the shotgun with both hands, he waited as Claire walked up behind him, taking in their new surroundings as he had.

"Bottom floor. Sporting goods, and women's lingerie," the man quipped, mostly to break the sudden heavy silence before throwing Claire a smirk, to which she rolled her eyes but smiled back slightly, which he was happy to see.

"Yeah. Because no horror movie's complete without some topless girl running around screaming in nothing but her underwear," she muttered as she moved past the man, whose grin turned sly as he followed after her.

"You offering?" he inquired, to which Claire responded by, not missing a step or even bothering to turn around, flicking his face with her hand, her fingers just missing him, making his grin widen into a smirk.

He stayed a step or two behind her as they descended a new stairway, the young crack shot pulling out her flashlight, and switching it on to illuminate the concrete gray walls surrounding them. As she did, Tony spoke up behind her.

"So I never asked how you even learned about this so-called 'secret passageway...'" he said casually, genuinely curious.

"When I first got to the station, I saw an officer running from some zombies in the laptop connected to the security cameras in the building," she began to explain as they reached the bottom of the stairs, passing some overturned orange traffic cones as they began down a second flight, her voice low but easy enough to hear in the heavy silence of the basement-like area they found themselves in.

"I tried to save him, but... it-it was too late," Claire continued, her voice beginning to quiver again, making Tony regret even asking now. But the young woman inhaled a steadying breath before moving on. "He said he'd found a way out, and gave me that small notebook with a diagram drawn in it before he died. The pages inside it showed where the secret passage was, and the combinations needed for the locks to get the medallions that opened it. I don't know how he found out about it... And I never had the chance to ask Marvin," she concluded as they made their way down the longer set of stairs.

Behind her, the young man nodded, her answer somewhat satisfying his curiosity, though now he was annoyed at himself for not looking through the files on the officer's desks in both rooms he and Claire had traversed through on their hunt for the last medal.

_There might've been answers in one of those papers, there might not have been. No use cryin' over spilled milk,_ he reminded himself.

As much as he wanted to know the origin of that secret passage, it was more important that it could potentially get them out of the station and the city itself, with the 'how' and 'why' best left on the back-burner.

As they reached the bottom of the second flight of stairs, Claire's flashlight beam fell on a red emergency box which had a small red light glowing on it, her beam of light moving from it to hover over the open gated door next to it. As the couple reached the bottom of the steps, she peered into the open doorway, looking over the grille-lined floor grates, metal wall and large boiler to their right.

"Looks like that's our exit," she observed as she moved to step inside, when Tony's hand gently grasped her shoulder to stop her.

Claire rounded around to give the man a perplexed look, while the taller man jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the last stairwell behind them leading to the bottom of the room they were in.

"Still a little more to explore," he explained, beginning to move for the stairs when he paused, seeing the sudden forlorn expression across his girlfriend's face.

"Tony, can... Can we just go, please? I really don't want to be here any longer..." she murmured, rubbing her left arm with her right hand as she did.

Understanding hit him instantly, and he kicked himself internally as he nodded and replied, "Yeah, you're right... Let's just find the way out, and get goin'."

His response made Claire's fallen expression brighten as she smiled and nodded, taking the lead, the two walking across the metal grille-lined floor, and further into the new area. While the collegiate girl kept her gaze straight ahead, Tony found himself looking around the at the various pipes and grate-lined ceiling, steam issuing around a series of large boilers. The man in red followed her, his own expression now both perplexed and once more curious.

"What the hell?..." he murmured to himself, just barely loud enough for Claire to hear over the soft hiss of steam issuing from several pipes lining the walls. "This place looks like-"

His words were cut off by a sudden rush of light steps across the metal grate lined ceiling above, a small figure's shadow flickering above the man and woman below it, with Claire snapping her gaze up when she heard soft, but rushed panting.

"Hello? _Hello?!_" she out called, before giving chase after the figure, her own footsteps loudly reverberating around them.

Tony reached after her, his gloved hand just missing the collar of her vest by a few inches as she dashed off, the crimson-coated youth calling out after, "Hey, _wait!_ Don't just go running off without-"

-when he stopped upon hearing new, heavier footsteps from above... accompanied by agonized groaning, a male voice crying out, "_Hnnngh... Noooo... NOOOOO!_"

The mercenary's eyes snapped up, only just catching the shadow of a much larger figure just as they vanished ahead, following after the smaller shadow that had already vanished only a few seconds ago. But even with that faint and brief view, he knew something was very off, the proportions of the figure somehow... _wrong._ Inhuman.

"The hell was that?" he whispered, before suddenly realizing he was alone.

His eyes snapped forward, seeing the corridor only continued and on, heavy shadows making it appear deeper and darker than it truly was. That thought alone did not ease the sudden tension in his stomach as he began to move again, taking long strides just short of running after the disappeared college student.

"Claire?! _Claire!_" he called as he gave chase after his girlfriend.

He dashed past more pipes and larger boilers on either side of himself, the air getting warmer and thicker the deeper he went, the humidity almost unbearable. But he ignored the minor discomfort, his icy eyes locked dead-ahead as he searched for his partner. When he finally exited the long corridor, his desperate search paused as he took in the impossible sight before him.

_What the hell?!_

The room he now stood in was massive, easily half the length and width of a football field, filled to the brim with massive machinery, power generators, and large turbines, all of them active and humming with heavy buzzing activity, the lower level of the room lined with thick mists of steam. Tony even spotted a large mechanical walkway across the railing he stood on, looming operation rooms on either side of himself while one was further ways up.

Taking a few more steps so he stood against the safety bar of the railing, the young man whispered to himself, "Why the hell would something like this be under a police station? It's a frickin' miniature power plant."

His mind tried to rationalize it as the station needing its own separate power grid in case of emergencies like the one currently gripping the city by the throat, but both the sheer size of the room and the number of generators he could count sent that conclusion out the window. Just from a glance, he could tell this small plant could power a dozen city blocks at the bare minimum, which was way too much juice for even the somewhat large police station. Tony narrowed his eyes, his suspicious paranoia returning in full force.

_Nothing's adding up about this place... I've gotta be missing something. Something that explains all this ridiculousness..._

His thoughts were broken as Claire's voice called out to him from his immediate right, "_Tony!_ Over here!"

Snapping his head towards the sound of her voice, the white-haired youth caught sight of the auburn-haired college girl standing in front of an open doorway, which was blocked off by an overturned metallic shelf case. Moving towards her, heavy boots issuing slightly loud but somewhat hushed *_clangs,_* he arrived next to her in moments, his expression annoyed if not also relieved.

"Could you _not_ run off like that? It ain't exactly safe around here, in case you didn't know," he reprimanded her gently for once, their positions usually reversed.

Claire gestured with her left hand at the case while replying, "I know I heard someone running ahead of us. They can't have gotten too far ahead. I just need your help to move this; it won't budge for me."

With a somewhat heavy sigh and slight shake of his head, the merc placed the Remington against the wall of the doorway while moving past Claire to get a better grip on the shelf, speaking as he did, "Yeah, yeah, I'll get this outta the way. Gimme a sec-"

"_Wait,_" she interrupted him, her hand raised for him to stop, her grey-blue eyes cast downward.

Tony cast her an annoyed glance while asking, "What's the hold up _now?_"

"I thought... I think I heard something. Just hold on for a second," she replied before she began crouching down onto the floor, her eyes narrowed as she peered through the gap of space between the doorway and the shelf, staring at something he couldn't see from above. The college girl pulled out her flashlight, flicking the beam on-

-just as something scurried past her line of vision, briefly caught in the light's flare, and letting her see a flash of pale white and blue dart behind some boxes.

"Hello?" Claire called, her voice just above a whisper...

And to her shock, a small, dirty face peeked from around the boxes, revealing dirty-blonde hair with a pink hairband nestled in their locks. She realized it was a young girl, not much older than ten at the most. The young woman was amazed a child had somehow lived and survived the nightmare in the city above.

Still standing by the shelf, waiting for his sweetheart's word to shove it aside, Tony narrowed his eyes as he felt his impatience building, wondering what she was doing when he heard a faint sound back the way they came, his head turning to look back while Claire spoke on below him.

"Hey... It's OK. I won't hurt you, I promise," she spoke soothingly.

She crawled forward slightly to extend her head and torso through the gap of space, relief rushing through her as the little girl peaked further out from behind the boxes, revealing her blue striped sweater over her white shirt. The girl's mouth was slightly agape, her bright blue eyes wide with obvious terror as she inhaled slowly but sharply in short gasps.

Still speaking calmly, wanting to give the girl some clearly-needed reassurance, Claire spoke on while offering her free hand to the girl, "Do you need help? Here, you can take my hand."

Tony glanced back down at her, about to ask who she was talking to when a much louder sound echoed from close by, his eyes snapping back up as his ears caught the distinct echo of what could only be metal being bent or broken out of place. Without even realizing what he was doing, he found the shotgun back in his hands, the barrel half-raised, his finger hovering over the trigger. He could hear something else. A sound was getting louder by the second.

Footsteps. _Heavy_ footsteps, like something large was approaching. _Fast._

"_Claire..._" he whispered harshly down to the distracted young woman. Whatever she was trying to do, she had to do it fast.

She simply ignored her companion's hissed beckoning, instead keeping her focus directly on the small, scared little girl just little over an arm's length away from her when she realized the girl's mouth was moving, and she could just faintly make out a few syllables but nothing else.

Inching closer, but not too quickly as to frighten the child off, Claire shook her head while saying, "I'm sorry, I can't understand you."

Back the way they had come, the footsteps continued to rise in volume, and Tony realized from the sound of how they seemed to be pounding down that whoever their owner was, they were staggering, but at a pace too quick to be a zombie's. The mercenary raised the shotgun fully as the steps reverberated heavily, meaning whatever was coming was now only just around the corner, out of his line of sight and fire for the moment, but closing in fast.

Behind him, the faint voice spoke up, light and young, but just loud enough for both him and Claire to hear. "You need help," it said. It was a young girl's voice, he mind realized as the staggering steps began to round the corner.

Claire stared back at the child, her mild concern melting away into more sudden concern at the dawning panic and raw terror in the girl's eyes.

"Why?" she asked, and Tony could easily picture the sudden confusion on her face to match her tone.

"He's right behind you!" the little girl whispered in barely-restrained panic, her shaking hand and finger pointing just over Claire's shoulder.

The college student blinked, muttering a confused "What?"

The older girl had said that just as the staggering horror rounded the corner completely, and for a moment, Tony Redgrave could only stare with wide-eyes and gaping mouth, his throat suddenly dry and locking up.

Redfield whirled around as her own ears finally caught the sound of the pounding, staggering steps, and the same panic and terror in the little girl's eyes suddenly flashed in her own, as she whispered in horror, "Oh my god..."

The lumbering horror shambling towards them had been a man once, or rather still was to an extent, wearing brown leather shoes, gray slacks, and a white coat. The man's head possessed shaggy, dirty blonde locks of hair, but all resemblances of humanity ended there. The white coat was torn in half, and like the slacks, covered in splashes of dark red blood, while the entire right side of the man's torso bulged grotesquely with thick, fibrous streams of blood-red and deep purple muscle tissue, huge shards of yellow bone jutted out in the approximate spot his shoulder had once been. The tissue on his chest encroaching on the remaining slick pale skin also showed engorged rib cages, the red, tumorous flesh even seeming to seep onto the right half of the man's face. The remaining left half still looked somewhat human, the man's left blue eye bloodshot, his dirty, stained face twisted in a combination of agony and feral rage. But these unsightly changes to this former human's body wasn't what had startled the two into the same stunned silence and horror, their eyes barely even noticing those horrific changes inflicted on this clearly once-human being.

No, neither the red-coated man or pink-vested girl found they could not look away from the massive, dinner plate-sized, yellow and orange _eyeball_ growing out of the transformed flesh. The massive orb searched about wildly, thick sounds of slick flesh issuing as it suddenly locked onto Claire, staring into her own eyes, and holding her gaze for a moment, before ever-so-slightly looking past her, the massive organ locked on the hiding child behind the older woman.

Tony lowered his left hand away from the shotgun to put a protective arm in front of Claire, who remained crouched down, her own right hand moving for her holstered revolver-

-when the monster's massive right arm spasmed suddenly, the mutated limb darting into the air, fingers thicker than Tony's entire clenched fist snapping open before thrusting down. The metal grille bellow shattered like the most brittle of glass, sparks flying as the huge hand gripped a bent section of pipe, and without showing even the slightest bit of effort, tore free from the support railing-

-sending both Tony and the monster crashing down into the floor below.

Claire's eyes widened in growing terror as the man vanished in a flash of red, a loud, meaty *_thump_* sounding over the ringing crash of metal and she screamed, "_TONY!_"

She scrambled towards the broken section of the pathway, her wide, desperation-filled eyes peering, down, fearing the worst-

-when she saw the pale-haired man was still on his feet, the Remington shotgun trained on the monstrous being currently collapsed on top of the smashed grille panel. The creature made strange, distorted grunts as it struggled to push itself back onto its shaking feet, using the pipe it just tore free as a makeshift cane. Its massive, tumor-like eye darted about, blinking wildly before settling on the red-coated man in front of it.

Without turning his cool icy gaze off the monster, the gunslinger called back, "_I'm fine, babe!_ You stay right there while I handle this! Got a feeling words aren't gonna cut it with this freak!"

With that said, Tony pulled the trigger on the shotgun, a massive, resounding *_BOOM_* echoing through the machine plant, the entire spread of buckshot striking the monster's chest, and making it stumble a step back. The creature groaned, its massive orange eye suddenly closing as the normal-looking arm gripped its face, moans of agony beginning to rise over the echo of the shotgun blast. Redgrave pumped the Remington's gauge, chambering a fresh round as he began walking backwards, his expression cool and collected as he observed this strange new monstrosity before him.

It wasn't a zombie, that much was obvious, but exactly _what _else it could be was currently beyond him. But the whats and whys didn't matter right now. It was clearly dangerous, and needed to be put down. With that conclusion, Tony pressed forward, firing the shotgun, chambering another shell, and firing again in a rapid succession of heavy blasts of hot buckshot that shredded the freak's flesh into ribbons and sprays of hot blood splashing the concrete walls and machinery around them, the concussive force of each blast succeeding in pushing the creature several steps back as it moaned and howled in obvious pain...

But it didn't fall down in a crumpled heap of dying, shredded flesh or a pool of blood, somehow still standing after blast after blast of firepower that should have ripped it to shreds of meat. And as the shotgun issued a slight *_click_* as its magazine tube ran dry, Tony blinked, giving the weapon a quick look before snapping his gaze back up at the strange beast. His eyes widened when he saw the monster's strange, rubbery-looking, muscle tissue-like flesh actually began to encroach on the pale, bloodstained and torn skin some of the shotgun pellets had torn into, the tumor-like tissue growing over the damaged skin, and repairing it as dozens and dozens of the buckshot pellets were _pushed _out of its body, clattering onto the floor like lead rain, all the damage he had potentially inflicted gone in seconds.

"That's... not good," he whispered to himself as the creature howled and began swinging the bent pipe held in its massive arm about wildly.

The pipe struck machinery, and dented the metal that composed it in a single strike and shower of sparks. The nearby concrete wall was not as lucky, as it disintegrated into flying crumbs and kick-up of dust. Tony dodged back as the pipe swung for him, the air whooshing as he felt it miss by precious inches.

The beast's sudden rampage came to a halt almost as soon as it began, the still-human face's lips working, a slurred moan of, "_Shhhhhhhhhhhhareeeeeeeeee...!_" issuing, the sound confusing his opponent, half of him wondering what it was trying to say while the other half screamed at him to not waste his chance.

Swallowing the urge to spit out a string of curses, Redgrave hastily tossed aside the empty shotgun, and drew the Colt out, finding his target on the monstrous arm and the tumor-like eye before he began squeezing the trigger as fast as he could in rapid succession. The heavy rounds struck the strange, tumorous flesh, missing the eye, and sending jets of bright, orange fluid spraying everywhere. The monster howled in fresh pain, its blind swings coming to a halt as its smaller left arm desperately clutched at the pulsing flesh, the large holes spurting more of that orange gunk shrinking fast. But the pause gave Tony enough time to snatch the discarded shotgun, and make a mad dash around the corner, shoving the Colt back into its holster to free his fingers to scramble for fresh shells for the Remington.

Above, Claire watched the exchange of gunfire strike the monster in rising hope that was dashed and replaced by a combination of horror and disbelief at the sight of the wounds Tony's shotgun inflicted on the beast heal and close before her very eyes, the man forced to retreat and scramble to reload as the monster staggered after him, groaning and dragging its make-shift club behind itself in a kick-up of sparks and screeching metal. Sudden movement behind her broke the woman out of her reverie, and she snapped her head around just in time to see the little girl running away, the boxes she had been hiding behind tumbling over.

"_Wait!_" she cried after her, forcing her body through the gap in the doorway and the bookshelf, squeezing through easily to snatch the child's wrist before she could flee.

The little girl screamed in blind panic. Claire managed to drag herself through the gap, and keep her grip on the girl's wrist, pushing herself up as the child struggled and wailed, "_Let me go! Let me go, let me GO!_"

"_Easy, easy!_ I told you, I'm not going to hurt you!" she spoke back, her voice just short of shouting to get her words over the terrified girl's own.

"_He's after me, he's after me! He's gonna get me if I don't run away!_" the girl screeched, tears of terror running down her dirty cheeks.

Claire clamped her other hand down on the girl's shoulder to steady her, and keep her in place as she released her small wrist to grasp her other shoulder. Steeling herself despite her own fears towards the strange monster Tony was fighting not too far away, the college student locked her eyes with the little girl's, speaking slowly and as calmly as she could, hoping that would sooth the child somewhat.

"He's _not_ going to get you. I _promise._" Claire's words were firm and unshaking, and they had their intended effect, the girl calming down somewhat, ceasing her desperate thrashing and stilling, though still panting partly. "I need you to stay in here, okay? Stay right here, and don't go anywhere. I'm going down there to help my friend stop that monster, alright? I'll be back with him soon. Until then, I need you to stay _right here_."

Claire stressed her words both to make sure the kid understood and hopefully believed her when she said she was going to help Tony against that thing. Mostly, she was just hoping she had convinced herself, because she had heard him blast away at the thing with almost every shell his shotgun had, and she could still hear it roaring.

The girl nodded shakily, mumbling, "Okay... I-I'll... I'll stay here..."

The young woman nodded back, offering her a soft smile and saying, "I'll be back before you know it."

With that said, she moved for the open doorway leading to a recalled ladder shaft by the walk rail, when Tony's voice called from below, "_Don't even THINK about it, babe!_"

Peering over, the woman saw the pale-haired man was standing close to the where the emergency ladder would drop, reloading his shotgun as he spoke on, "You and that kid need to get outta here while I take care of this thing!"

In complete disbelief at the man's dismissal of herself, she called back, "You can't expect me to just leave you here to fight that thing by yourself!"

"That's _exactly _what I expect you do!" he snapped back, craning his head up to meet her gaze, his icy eyes filled with such intensity, Claire felt her growing anger cool and diminish before it could even fully form. "I can't fight this thing _and _worry about you at the same time! Besides, someone needs to keep that little girl safe!... And let's be honest here, you're way better with kids than I am."

He threw her a cheeky grin, which made the girl sputter in response to his complete flippancy at the danger he was putting himself in. "Tony, that's crazy!"

"No, it's the facts. Now grab the kid, and find a way outta here while I pump this thing full of lead! I'll catch up once I'm finished here!"

No sooner had he said that did the creature stagger from behind a set of machinery, its normal hand clutching the human half of its face while its monstrous arm swung the large pipe like a bludgeon, the make-shift club smashing the large devices with enough force to leave massive dents in them, large bursts of steam issuing out, and quickly beginning to fill the lower space with thick, burning mist.

Chambering a fresh round into the shotgun as he finished loading, Tony shot his partner one last smirk while saying, "That's our cue, good-lookin'. You two make yourselves scarce while I keep Smashy over there busy!"

With that, the steam finished filling the lower area, the crimson-coated man disappearing into the heavy mist, Claire hearing his muffled footfalls dashing away.

Rising back up and cursing under her breath, the young woman admitted to herself that while she was not one to run from a fight - especially when someone she cared about was involved - Tony had a point. There was a child involved now, and she had to prioritize her safety over his.

Turning back around, she quickly moved back towards the little girl, who blinked in surprise as Claire snatched her hand again while saying, "Come on, we're gonna find a way out of here."

"But... wh-what about your friend?" she asked, her tone still carrying obvious fear and timidity.

"He's gonna keep that monster from following us, and hopefully put it down for good," she explained to her, hoping she could convince the girl and herself of Tony's suicidal bravado.

The child pointed towards a staircase leading to a higher level, while murmuring, "Um, there might be a way out up there..."

Claire nodded, offering her a smile while saying, "Alright, then. Let's go."

Back down below, Tony had ducked behind another set of turbines, having set the shotgun aside to free his hands to snatch fresh clips for the Beretta and Colt, reloading them as his mind raced on a strategy. The shotgun had only managed to push the freak back a couple of steps, the damage from the repeated buckshot having healed in moments, so he needed to find a weak spot for his shots. Only two obvious ones came to mind: the freak's still human-looking face, and the eyeball tumor growing from its bicep. The steam had started to let up just a bit, so the gunman chanced a peek from around the turbine, spotting the staggering monster less than six feet away.

The creature still groaned in torment as it blindly swung its pipe about, its moaning turning into pained slurs of, "_Haaaaaaaalp mehhhhhhhh..._"

That made Tony freeze up, his eyes widening in horror and realization. _He may look like a monster, but there's still some kind of consciousness left in him..._

Claire's earlier words reminding him the people of this city were victims of whatever had caused the outbreak came flooding back to him, but he pushed them down. He had no cure to offer, but he could bring this creature's torturous existence to an end. With that decided, the scarlet gunman rounded from behind his corner, both Beretta and Colt drawn, the two handguns opening fire simultaneously. The hollow-points from the Beretta and the heavier .45 rounds smacked into the strange tumorous flesh of the monster's grossly swollen arm, thick orange muck spurting out with each impact. The creature howled in pain, its human arm gripping its larger arm as it began to swing the pipe out, striking more machinery, and showering sparks and shards of metal to go flying about.

As Tony's handguns ran dry, he ejected the spent magazines and quickly reloaded, the creature's spasming having caused it to freeze up as its wounded arm began twitch and jerk in a strange manner-

-and the mutant flesh seemed to be bulging and swelling into an even larger monstrosity, the dinner plate-sized orange eyeball swiveling around to lock onto the crimson-clad man, the tortured groans and moans from the human face dropping an octave, becoming snarls of rage as the half-human face turned to glare at him as well, the pained grimace replaced by a furious scowl of animalistic fury, blood running down its normal eye like tears as it began to stomp towards him, its shuffling gait seemingly forgone for an enraged charge.

Swallowing a curse, Tony's hands somehow finished their task of reloading just in time to duck under the monster's sudden swing, the pipe tearing the upper portion of a turbine to shreds, sparks flying from the impact. Rolling under the follow-up swing, the merc jammed his handguns back into their holsters, and scooped up the shotgun, using the momentum of his roll to jump back up, and fire a blast of buckshot directly into the still-human half of the beast's face. Aside from shredding the pale, blood-stained skin, he knew he hadn't hurt it as much as he was hoping for when the beast simply swung its back down hard enough to leave a large dent on the space he had been standing on, the youth dodging at the last second by dashing backwards, firing another round from the rifle as he did, this blast striking its gut just as uselessly as he was forced to retreat once again while the howling creature pursued.

Back above, the little girl had led Claire to another workstation area overlooking the machine plant below, the kid pointing towards a large lever while saying, "It won't move."

The collegiate girl stared at the lever for a second before spotting a movable walk-rail just outside the workstation window, the walkway hanging from several large cables, and was currently parked six feet away from where it was supposed to be. Grasping the lever, finding it was indeed firmly locked in place, she gave it a hard tug with all her strength, successfully pulling the lever back. As soon as it settled into its new spot, mechanical gears began turning loudly, and the hanging walkway began to move back into is proper spot.

"You got it!" the little girl exclaimed excitedly, beginning to dash ahead while Claire followed behind her.

As they walked across the walkway, the girl looked to her left, watching Tony dash through gaps between the machinery as the hulking pipe carrying creature charged after him, smashing anything between itself and the gunman in red, who would dash just out of reach of the creature's weapon before firing one of his handguns back it in retaliation.

"Are... Are we really just going to leave him?" she asked, looking up to Claire, who was watching the battle as well, her expression showing her obvious worry.

"Believe me, sweetie, I didn't want to," she admitted gently, meeting the child's gaze before going on. "But I know he can handle himself, and I need to get you away from that thing."

The blonde little girl looked away from the young woman back towards the roaring monster, the creature smashing another boiler, and causing more steam to burst free and obscure the lower area in a haze of hot mist once again.

"I was... looking for my mom..." she whispered.

Claire blinked upon hearing that. "...Your mom's down here?"

She nodded. "I think so... I _hope_ so..." She looked back at her to inquire almost desperately, "Will you help me find her?"

The college student gave the child a reassuring smile and nod before affirming, "Yeah, of course I'll help you. Now come on, let's go."

The little girl pointed towards a nearby door before looking back at Claire to say, "Um, there's a ladder in there. It goes to the garage of the police station..."

The older woman looked over at the door, echoing, "Garage? You mean like a parking deck?"

She nodded, and Claire felt her hope rise back up.

_We can find a car. Even if it doesn't have keys, I can hot-wire it, and we'll be kissing this zombie-infested hellhole goodbye in no time,_ her mind raced excitedly.

"Alright, then that's where we're going," Claire stated with another smile, the girl's lips curling up slightly in a shy one of her own.

As the two started walking, the biker girl chanced a look back, hearing muffled gunfire and monstrous roars from the floor below, sounds of Tony's continuing struggle against the strange pipe-wielding monster.

_Don't you **dare** die on me, Anthony Redgrave... Because if you thought I was mad after you said that stupid crap about Chris..._

"Um, miss?"

The little girl's timid voice broke Claire out of her thoughts, and the taller woman turned her grey-blue orbs down to meet the kid's lighter blue ones.

"My... My name is Sherry," she introduced herself quietly.

Smiling back, Claire replied, "Nice to meet you, Sherry. I'm Claire. Claire Redfield. Now, what do you say we get out of here, huh?"

The child, Sherry, nodded, smiling a bit more brightly this time as they headed for the next room and the ladder for the parking deck.

* * *

The barrel of the handgun trembled against the bottom of his jaw, where it was pressed tightly against the paling, sweaty flesh. The hand that held it was shaking ever so slightly, the darkened knuckles clenched tight. His eyes were closed, his teeth grinding down as he struggled with the simple act of applying the smallest amounts of pressure to the trigger of the Browning flush underneath his chin.

One, small squeeze... and it would all be over. If he could do that much, then at least his body wouldn't become one of the many diseased undead wandering the city, searching for the warm flesh of the unlucky living. But no matter how hard he tried to will himself to just pull the trigger one final time... his finger would not obey.

Marvin Branagh remained sitting on the bench, his right hand gripping his handgun and holding it at the base of his chin, the limb shaking visibly now, while his left still clutched his aching side, where only a day ago, a colleague had sunk his rotting teeth into him after the lieutenant had made the deadly mistake of hesitating, believing his fellow officer still had a trace of his humanity left.

He had been wrong, however. And now here he was, about to pay the price for that mistake.

The wound was no longer bleeding, or even itching, as it had started to some time ago. Marvin suspected that this meant his time was growing shorter. If he didn't act soon, he was damning himself and any unfortunate soul unlucky enough to happen upon his body.

But suddenly, Marvin found the handgun was growing heavier... as was his arm...

His labored breathing began to slow, his eyes flickering open weakly as his head slumped backwards, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling above... His thoughts drifted towards his companions... Towards the S.T.A.R.S. unit Irons had disbanded after their final mission in July...

Briefly, the dying policeman was filled with immense regret... He should have listened to Claire's brother, Chris Redfield, and his partner, Jill Valentine... Should have heeded their warnings of what they had encountered in the Spencer Estate...

Then, his arm slipped down entirely, settling against his lap, the Browning High-Power nine-millimeter slipping limply from his loosening fingers, where it fell upon the linoleum floor with a gentle clatter...

Marvin Branagh's sightless brown eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling above...

Suddenly, the lights in the Main Hall all flickered, briefly casting the large foyer into total darkness. When they flickered back to life, heavy footfalls echoed through the silent hall. A tall figure in black, head and hands wrapped tightly with gauze bandages, quietly emerged from around the corner, walking past the door to the West Office. His cold eyes briefly glanced at the still body of the police officer lying still on a bench across from the towering Goddess Statue, before they turned to give the icon their full attention.

The newcomer approached the base of the statue, his dark eyes observing the section where three palm-sized medallions had been inserted, each bearing a different engraving upon them. Without looking away, he carefully placed the long black guitar case he had been carrying with his right hand against the base of the statue. While behind him...

Marvin's body lurched upright from the bench, strings of drool falling from his open mouth as his eyes, now a cloudy white, fell on the stranger in black less than five feet away from him. With a hungry moan, arms stretching out, the officer's undead corpse began to stagger towards the man, who remained facing the Goddess Statue, seemingly unaware of the approaching danger. The zombie took a single step, followed by a second-

When the sound of scraping metal quickly rose over the undead officer's hungry moan, the long katana slashing out as the mercenary called Gilver swept his sword out once with his right arm. Marvin's body came to a stop instantly. Spinning the blade, the swordsman silently returned it to its sheathe.

As the hilt fell against the lacquered wood, a thin red line appeared around Marvin's neck, before his head suddenly fell from his body with a sickening wet squelch of splitting flesh, his body crumpling to a heap shortly after.

Still paying no heed to the dead man, Gilver instead turned his gaze towards the guitar case he had placed against the base of the statue. His left hand reached out, undoing the zipper holding the leather material together. Once it fell away, the bandaged swordsman silently studied the hilt of the revealed item, his index finger tracing the carved metal in the shape of a skull...

* * *

Back below, Tony was sprinting through the heavy fog of humid mist, his head snapping from one direction to another every time his ears caught a muffled footstep or groan from the creature that had somehow vanished from his line of vision. Deciding to seize the brief calm, he ejected the spent clip from his Colt, and grabbed a fresh one from inside his coat, reloading as his eyes scanned the steamy mist for any sign of the creature. His mind raced as the seconds ticked by, and there was still no sign of the thing.

_Where the hell did it go?... It's my height, and has an arm the size of a frickin' mastiff, so where could it be hiding?!_

As he rounded the corner, Redgrave glanced over the side railing he found himself by, seeing how the darkness-covered bottom below seemed to go on forever. With this, he began considering trying to knock the damn thing over it, since his bullets didn't seem to be doing jack to it anyway.

No sooner had he started to wonder how he could lure the thing over here, a loud *_CLANG_* issued directly behind him, causing him to whirl around, his icy eyes meeting the still-human looking face's lone bloodshot one as its massive hand clamped over his head, and began squeezing down hard. Letting out a pained "_Gah!_" Tony jammed the barrel of the Colt directly into the thing's tumor-looking eye, and pulled the trigger again and again, the heavy rounds striking the twitching orb over and over, hot orange blood spraying out.

The monster bellowed in true pain this time, yanking its arm back, its huge hand still clutching its unfortunate victim by the head, flinging the red-coated gunman aside with ease, as if the fully grown man weighed less than a crumpled piece of paper. The gunslinger slammed into a large piece of machinery hard enough to dent the metal with a deep impact crater, blood gushing from his open mouth as he crumpled into a heap with a pained groan while the monster crumpled to its knees in agony, its large yellow eye turning a dark hue of orange as more of its strange blood began to gush down like thick, oozing tears.

The pale-haired man managed to push himself onto his hands and knees, agony ripping through his upper chest and back, choked blood spilling from his lips. He was in bad shape; the worst he'd felt in a long time. He could feel the broken, grinding bones along his chest and back, along with the distinct, painful pinch of a broken rib poking into one of his lungs. But he ignored the pain, pushing it down, reassuring himself that he would heal like he always did, and forced himself back onto his feet, his icy eyes searching for the monster.

When he saw it was collapsed to its knees in front of the railway overlooking the black abyss of whatever lay below, he knew this was his best and probably only chance to finish this.

Forcing himself back onto his feet, blood dripping down his jaw, Tony tensed himself up, willing his pained body to stay up just another moment-

-when a voice called out, hushed and muffled, but still loud enough to be heard over the chaos of the situation, calling out a name...

A name that made him freeze in place, his eyes widening.

Suddenly, he was elsewhere, flames all around him, a woman's voice calling out another name frantically.

Rushing air and spinning metal brought him back to reality, the man in red flinching as something slammed down in front of him in a burst of sparks and shining steel. Tony looked at the object, recognizing it instantly. It was a blade almost as long as he was tall, the tip currently embedded in the metal floor hidden from sight, but he knew it would be barbed at the edge. The hilt was seemingly carved from a human ribcage, with two humeri against them, and not one but two skulls etched just above the spike-pommeled handle, one skull having a set of horns above its empty eye sockets.

"_...Woozy?_" he whispered, the affectionate nickname he had given the sword he had carried on him in every job, always succeeding where guns usually failed. If they survived his handling of them, that is.

His eyes shot up for the ceiling, spotting a section of a walkway on hydraulic movers, his eyes widening as they were met by stone cold orbs, the only feature he could make out from the head surrounded in bandages. The darkly-dressed figure held his stare for another moment, then took a single step back, disappearing into the shadows.

Tony stepped forward, his mouth opening, a name starting to rise from his lips, "Gil-"

When he heard the monster roar once again, his eyes snapped back forward to see the creature pushing itself back onto its feet, using its pipe club like a cane to steady itself. Tony knew it was now or never.

His right hand shot out as his feet began to charge forward, his strong grip ripping the sword free in a screech of metal and the weapon was thrust out, striking with all the flair of a scorpion's stinger. The creature with tumor-like eye swung its pipe out to deflect the blow, but Tony's sword cut through the long pole like a hot knife through butter, the barbed tip impaling it directly in the gut in a burst of blood and torn flesh. The creature roared in agony, the broken halves of its makeshift club clanging on the floor below, but the swordsman paid them no mind.

He ripped his blade free from the beast's gut, tearing into it with three quick swipes before suddenly thrusting the blade out rapidly, a single thrust quickly becoming a blurred frenzy of a million stabs delivered in the span of a second, the final blow sending the monster flying back off its feet as Tony boasted "_Breakdown!_"

Careening back, the monster staggered backward, its voice a raspy gargle, thick blood splashing out past its lips, when suddenly, the still-human looking face seemed to shift slightly, the bloodshot blue eye widening as the massively disfigured right arm and tumor-like eye spasmed painfully, the now-blood red eye twitching erratically as it darted its gaze about frantically. The creature's human like face gave Tony one last look, and the man swore he saw what could only be described as _relief _rising through the tortured, blood-soaked face.

Then, the creature spun around, dragging its bleeding body towards a handrail that it grasped with its normal arm. With a final distorted scream, it lunged over the side of the rail, falling into the deep darkness below, the scream fading into the blackness as well, before being silenced by a softer sound, which Tony swore was a faint but heavy *_splash_* of something large striking water.

For several seconds, the crimson swordsman simply stood there, breathing heavily, wincing as he felt that rib that had been poking one of his lungs snap back into place, causing him to cough, hacking a few droplets of blood as he did, before he turned his gaze back up, looking at the walkway where he had sworn he had seen that bandage-wrapped swordsman named Gilver; the stranger who had arrived at Bobby's Cellar and fought him to a draw. Slinging Woozy over his shoulder, Redgrave glared at the spot for another moment, his mind racing as he tried to understand what he saw.

_I know what I saw... It was **him...** But what's he even doing here?! Did he follow me? How'd he even know I was here?!_

Unable to draw any conclusions to his internal questions for the moment, Tony began collecting his fallen shotgun and Colt, ejecting its clip to count the remaining rounds before holstering the sidearm, and shouldering the shotgun. He had to catch up to Claire and that kid she found, hoping they hadn't gotten too far ahead of him.

Arriving at the base where the collapsible ladder should have been lowered, but wasn't, the merc huffed a sigh before bending his knees slightly, and jumping up, flying through the air by almost twenty feet, landing on the upper walkway with a heavy *_CLANG_* and slight wince as felt the impact reverberations ring through his knitting chest.

Before following after Claire and the girl, Tony took one last look towards the railing overlooking the black abyss the creature had flung itself into, once more wondering what had turned a once-normal man into a creature like that. Again, he considered the possibility of a mutation of the zombie disease afflicting Raccoon City, but while he felt the two were connected, he didn't think they were the same cause.

Narrowing his eyes, the sword master set his gaze forward and started off, a small part of him hoping whatever humanity that creature still possessed had been put to rest from the torment it now found itself trapped in.

* * *

With one last grunt of effort, Claire shoved the manhole cover off entirely, allowing her to pull herself up and out of the manhole, Sherry's smaller head peaking out a few moments later. The woman gave the parking deck a quick look over, and despite the faint smell of rot, there was not a single zombie or even a body anywhere to be seen. She gave Sherry a nod, and the little girl pulled herself out and stood up, standing close to Claire's legs as the two began to walk about the deck.

Giving the smaller girl another look, seeing that she still looked tense and apprehensive, Claire broke the silence to ask her, "So... what's your mom like?"

The sudden question made Sherry blink and glance up at the older woman before she mumbled, "Oh, uh... She works for Umbrella, making lots of important new medicines... She's always at work, so I don't get to see her that much," she admitted quietly, her right hand rubbing at the small necklace charm around her neck.

Claire felt a wave of pity wash over her. "Well, hopefully, you'll get to see her again soon."

Her gaze then narrowed as she internally mused over the fact that this girl's mother worked for Umbrella.

_Umbrella... They have a huge chemical plant in the heart of the city. And Sherry says her mom is working on new medicines..._

She knew where her thoughts were leading her. And while she had no proof, it was still too much of a coincidence to ignore. She recalled that deranged note she had found in the station's West Storage Room, the writer cursing at some corporation. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

_Maybe there **is** a connection... But I can't focus on that right now. We just need to find a way out of here,_ she concluded, just as Sherry uttered an excited gasp, her hand shooting out to point at something.

"Over there!" she cried out.

She broke into a run, Claire following behind her, spotting the bright lights shining ahead, her heart leaping into her throat when she saw it was a set of headlights on a parked car just outside of a lowered parking gate. Finding herself running after Sherry, the two arrived at the front of the gate in seconds.

Sherry's brief joy quickly soured into obvious disappointment as she mumbled, "It's closed..."

Frowning, the young woman looked to the gate's right, and fought down a frustrated groan when she saw the large orange and blue key reader set up next to it.

"Dammit. We need a key card," she uttered aloud, looking back at the gate and sighing before adding, "The one time I actually need Tony to try and be macho..." Looking back at the little girl, she asked, "Are you sure this is the way?"

Sherry nodded quickly before replying, "This is how my mom took me last time."

She really didn't want to try to lift the thing up by herself. It probably weighed too much for her to even so much as budge it, plus it was more than likely locked down securely. Still, what else could she do? They needed to get out of this death trap before some new monster reared its ugly head-

"_...Sherry?!_"

At the sound of the low male voice, Claire was back on her feet, moving in front of Sherry protectively as a rather large figure began to approach from the shadows.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Sherry..."

As he said that, the man stepped out of the darkness completely, revealing himself to be a heavyset man dressed in a grey vest over white shirt, and blue slacks with a red tie tucked into the vest. His hair was a fading gray into white, deep bags under his beady brown eyes, a thick gray mustache over his lips.

He smiled brightly at Sherry, who remained partially behind Claire's legs, speaking again as he slowly continued to approach. "Brave little girl to leave your house in the middle of this mess..."

When he was less than six feet away from them, he finally turned his gaze to the older girl, his smile dropping as his left hand reached down to his side, and a second later, the barrel of a revolver was aimed directly at her face.

"On the ground, hands behind your head."

Claire stared back at the barrel, her eyes wide with disbelief by the sudden change from friendly man to very real threat. "You can't be serious..."

In response to her disbelief, the large man simply moved the revolver slightly to the side of her right and fired a single round, the bullet shattering the windshield of a parked car.

With his point made, he realigned his gun back on her, reiterating his earlier words with a clear annoyed edge in his tone, "On the ground. _Now._"

Knowing he had her dead to rights, and that she'd never draw any of her weapons fast enough before he'd shoot her, Claire raised her arms over her head, and slowly dropped to her knees, glaring coldly at the fat bastard, who grinned smugly, pleased.

He turned his beady eyes back to Sherry as he took a few more steps towards them, closing the distance between himself and the young woman while using his left hand to produce a zip-tie from one of his pants pockets, tossing the band towards the little girl while ordering, "Sherry, tie her hands."

Sherry blinked, looking completely terrified as she sputtered, "Why are you doing this?"

"Shut up. Tie her," the fat man ordered again, his revolver never wavering away from Claire's face.

Sherry looked from the zip-tie then back to the man, clearly frozen with fear and indecision.

Seeing this, the man stepped closer towards Claire, the barrel of the handgun less than six inches from her face now as he barked, "OK, then. You tie her up _now,_ or she _dies._"

Whimpering in terror, but unwilling to let her new friend die, the child bent down to pick up the zip-tie, quickly scampering behind the other girl. The college student let the little girl pull her hands down to bind them with the zip-tie, her grey-blue eyes cold sapphires as she continued glaring at the fat bastard, his smug smirk infuriating her further.

"What's this all about?" she demanded as she watched the man move towards the key reader.

The bastard had the nerve to turn his back to her as he produced a parking pass key from his vest pocket while simply stating, "Child endangerment, for starters."

A light on the reader turned from green to red, a soft chime issuing as the gate began to rise up, the fat man turning to face Sherry, and motioning her to come forward with his gun as he said, "Sherry, come here."

Claire felt an icy spike of fear run through her heart, adrenaline pumping in her veins as real terror for the little girl's life rushed through her.

"What are you gonna do to her?" she demanded.

"None of your fucking business," the fat bastard snapped back.

Unable to fight down her burning anger, Claire ranted at the man, "If you hurt her, I swear to God, my brother is S.T.A.R.S. and I will _fucking-_"

The rest of her threat was cut off by the heavy kick to her gut from the man that dropped her onto her side, a whoosh of air knocked out her lungs, while the fat man again demanded to the terrified child, "Sherry, get over here."

When she still didn't move, the man rolled his eyes and stomped towards Claire, bending down to snatch her by the ponytail, asking in mock politeness, "What's your name?"

When Redfield kept her mouth shut in defiance, the man tightened his grip on her hair while shoving the barrel of his revolver closer to her face, hissing angrily, "_What's your fucking name?!_"

"_Claire!_" the young woman snarled through clenched teeth, internally urging Tony to show up, and beat this fat bastard to a bloody pulp.

But he was either still fighting that strange monster, or worse, dead, and she found herself alone as the fat man looked back up at Sherry to snarl at the horrified little girl, "Sherry, you come with me now, or say _goodbye_ to Claire!"

"_OK, OK, I'll go!_" Sherry conceded, quickly moving towards the opened gate. Pleased, the fat man rose back up as the child weakly demanded, "You better be taking me to my mom."

Throwing his hands up in a shrug, the fat man stated, "Absolutely."

Claire forced herself up as best as she could, saying to Sherry desperately, "Don't listen to him! He's full of shit-"

Her words were once more cut off, this time by the fat bastard's large hand that gripped his gun, pistol whipping her across the jaw hard enough to split her lip, the young woman tasting blood as she collapsed on the asphalt, gasping harshly before going still when she saw a large, broken shard of glass only a few inches away from herself.

"_Stop hurting her! Please!_" Sherry begged desperately, unable to bear seeing Claire in such pain.

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, the fat man stomped towards the girl, snatching her by the upper arm in a tight grip while snapping, "Don't tell me how to do my job."

He began dragging the struggling girl over the parking gate's threshold, the child wailing in terror, "_Stop! Let me go! Let me go!_"

As the older girl dragged herself by her elbows closer to the glass shard, the man had successfully begun dragging Sherry off as the gate began to descend, all the while saying, "Obviously, nobody taught you manners! We'll fix that. Oh, yes, we will," he promised darkly.

Sherry looked back at Claire, her blue eyes shining with terrified tears, as something shining dully fell from her neck as she thrashed and screamed, "_LET ME GO! LET ME GO!_"

Redfield felt her fingers wrap around the large glass piece, and she quickly cut through the plastic of the zip-tie, freeing her wrists from it. Shooting back up onto her feet, she chased after the fat man and Sherry-

-only to find her path impeded as the gate successfully re-closed, cutting her off, letting her only watch as the man dragged the girl off into the distance, out of sight in seconds.

Her fury peaking with a painful clench of hopelessness around her heart, Claire kicked the gate as hard as she could and screamed after the man, "_I'LL GET YOU, YOU FUCKER!_"

Her rage dying, heavy pants for air slipping past her lips, the young woman found herself looking down, catching sight of a small gold charm with a gold necklace attached to it. The same charm Sherry had been rubbing earlier when talking about her mother.

Bending down to scoop it up, Claire clutched the necklace tightly between her fingers, wiping her bleeding lips as she whispered, "Stay safe, Sherry..."

That fat son of a bitch was going to pay. She swore to herself she'd see to that personally.

Unholstering her revolver, and safely tucking Sherry's necklace into the deepest pocket of her satchel, Claire whispered to herself, "Okay... Key card first. Then that asshole gets what's coming to him."

There had to be another parking pass somewhere in this deck, or even in the police station, if she had to look elsewhere. If the personnel of the station needed them to get in and out, there was bound to be one laying around somewhere, or hidden inside the pockets of one of the many dead or zombified officers. She couldn't wait for Tony any longer, if the man was coming at all, because every second put Sherry's life in greater danger.

With that settled, she broke into a fast jog, spotting an open door to her left down a small set of stairs. Clearing the steps with one long jump, she dashed down the hallway and rounded the corner, finding an elevator and a locked door to her left, the door branded with a pink diamond insignia. When she tried the handle, she found it securely locked. Her frustration boiling, she kicked the door uselessly before turning around to pace, when her eyes landed on a large poster map of the parking deck, with a magazine opened to an article on the small table under it.

Blinking, Claire approached the table, looking down at the magazine in disbelief when she saw a picture of the fat man in a blue police uniform, the article headline reading: 'Chief Brian Irons, Raccoon's most respected hero!'

"That bastard is the _police chief?!_" she uttered in disbelief, her anger boiling over into fresh righteous fury.

_He's supposed to be a _**_cop!_**_ A man who protects and serves, not an asshole who terrorizes women, and kidnaps little girls!_ her mind raged, and she slapped the magazine aside. A useless gesture, but damn if it didn't make her feel better.

_Calm down. I need to search this floor with a clear head. If I let my anger distract me, I could die at the hands of a zombie or worse. And what good am I to Sherry then?_

Inhaling a deep breath, Claire nodded to herself, willing her pounding heart to slow back down to a regular rhythm. She needed to find a parking pass. And since the elevator and the diamond-marked door were both locked up, she had to look elsewhere. Departing the hallway, she then spotted another door past some park cars with a red 'Exit' sign glowing brightly over it. Having nowhere else to go, she quickly stepped through it, arriving in another hallway, this one filled with heavy darkness. The overhead lights were out, with only the illumination of a nearby soda machine offering any type of light.

Pulling out her flashlight, she spotted a blocked pass with an impromptu barrier of furniture and other large objects, and two more doors, both locked when she tried them. Grinding her teeth, but refusing to give up, the woman made her way down the long hallway to her right from the door she had arrived through, the beam of her flashlight cutting through the darkness-

-and spotting something that quickly darted across the wall, a distinct *_click-clack_* echoing through the silent chamber. Claire froze, instantly recognizing the sound and its originator.

_Those inside-out lizard things from the station... There's more down here._

That realization made her gulp, her mouth suddenly dry, but she forced herself forward. She had to find a pass, a key to the locked doors, _something_ that would help her get to Sherry a moment sooner. And if she had to kill these things to do that, she would.

Arriving at the end of the hall, coming up to another turn, Claire saw her way forward was again blocked off by a hastily-constructed barricade, leaving her only other option a door to her left. Inhaling deeply, she gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly, pushing it open, and peering through the gap. What she saw froze her in her tracks.

The room she was looking into was a large kennel area, multiple cages stacked atop each other, each empty, the thin metal bars broken and bent, with a sea of blood covering the floor. Two of the inside-out skinned monsters were messily tearing into the bloody bodies of a pair of large dogs; Dobermans, she recognized. Swallowing again, Claire steeled herself as she slowly began pushing the door all the way open.

_They're eating, too focused on their meals... They don't have eyes, so they have to rely on smell or sound; maybe both... It reeks of blood and rot, and if I move quietly, they won't realize I'm here. I'll be out before they know it._

Her conclusion didn't make her feel any more confident, but she didn't have much of a choice but to press on. Stepping into the kennel completely, Claire began to inch past the skinned monsters as they continued to tear into the bodies of the poor dogs, blood splattering around them, bits of flesh dropping from between their jaws. The young student kept her eyes glued on the creatures as she continued to slowly make her way around them, spotting a set of stairs just past the two beasts, where another dead dog lay in a pool of its own blood-

-Claire's foot suddenly slipped under her air, a fresh and wet spot of blood becoming her undoing as she collapsed loudly onto the floor with a shocked cry, her eyes wide with terror. At the sound of her body impacting directly behind them, the two creatures jerked up, snapping their eyeless heads at her, their bloody jaws falling open as they roared at the realization of fresh prey for them; a fresh and hot meal.

The girl froze in horror as the two beasts leapt through the air towards her, their massive clawed hands drawn back-

-The soft sound of sliding metal rose over the hissing roars of the twin creatures, who seemed to freeze in midair, lines of wispy, yet straight black smoke appearing over them, a rush of air whooshing by Claire's stunned form-

-and then the creatures' bodies, exploding in bursts of gore and tearing flesh, collapsed into piles of meat and bone across the bloody floor. Claire stared at the bloody pieces of the creatures, unable to breath, blink, or comprehend what had just happened.

Then, heavy footfalls echoed loudly through the kennel room.

"So..." a cold voice murmured, sounding oddly muffled.

The girl blinked, her gaze snapping up as she watched a figure dressed in a dark suit emerge from the shadows, his face obscured by heavily-wrapped bandages covering his head and hands, which held a long eastern katana in the right that was dripping with the monsters' blood, and a long black scabbard in his left. The man's cold eyes were locked with Claire's own, and though she couldn't really tell, she swore she spotted the slight crinkling of the gauze around the area of his mouth, meaning he was smirking down on her.

"You must be Tony's girlfriend."

* * *

Dun, dun, DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN.

Sorry, couldn't resist. This chapter is a bit shorter than the last one, but we're setting up some fun stuff for the next couple of 'em!

Tony and Claire are almost out of the police station, but they're gonna run into new faces (one bandaged, the rest not), and next chapter Tony is gonna meet a few new people, while Claire has a very interesting conversation with Gilver.

Major props to Da-Awesom-One for editing this chapter and helping me rewrite my initial plans for this one.

Drop a review and fave/follow if you can, I'll start on the next chapter as soon as I'm over this damn stomach bug I caught a bit ago.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Breakthru

* * *

The parking deck of the Raccoon City Police Station was shrouded in heavy shadows, the darkness only broken in a few spots by the faint lights of electronic signs, and the glaring beams from the burning headlights of an abandoned vehicle just outside the lowered gate. These small amounts of light offered little in relief from the all-encompassing shadows, but in truth, this faint light only allowed the shadows to run even deeper, hiding the nightmares that were Raccoon City's newest populace.

Far in the back of the lot, the manhole that Claire Redfield and the young girl named Sherry had emerged from earlier remained uncovered, faint light barely emanating from it from the well-lit room below.

That very faint light was briefly obscured by something moving to block it, and a blurred figure leapt out of the manhole, spinning through the air, before landing heavily on leather boots, the long tail of his crimson cloak flaring out like a massive pair of wings, icy blue eyes flashing as the man called Tony Redgrave grinned triumphantly, rising back up to his full height.

The comforting weight of the long broadsword resting across his back along with the long shotgun next to it, the pale-haired man thrust his arms out and above his head, exclaiming, "_And he sticks the landing! The crowd goooes wiiild!_"

Giving an exuberant bow, then rising back up, Tony observed the darkened parking deck, his eyes scanning the shadows over for a few moments before realizing he was seemingly completely alone in the deck.

His smile turning to a disappointed frown, he groaned before muttering, "Dammit, no one's around. They totally missed my entrance!"

Walking forward, one hand resting in his coat's pocket, Redgrave's eyes moved from side-to-side as he strolled forward, his brow furrowing when he realized he really was completely alone in the Parking Garage of the police station. He stopped about six feet from the lowered gate, still looking around for any signs of life, but found none.

His eyes narrowed, concern flashing through the icy orbs. "Claire? Little girl?" he called out just loud enough for his voice to echo and reverberate through the deck.

Silence was his only response.

Eyes narrowing, Tony approached the shuttered parking gate, his eyes looking it over quickly before spotting the card-key reader set up next to it.

He ran his fingers over the key slot, before craning his head back and calling out again, "_Claire?!_"

All that responded were the reverberating echoes of his own voice. Facing forward, the young man observed the gate as his mind began to rush, his thoughts racing as he tried to understand where Claire and the kid she found could possibly be. His eyes looked over the concrete floor, but he couldn't see any fresh bloodstains, or expended ammunition shells to indicate that the collegiate girl had run into any kind of trouble before his arrival.

_I know I wasn't that far behind them. It's been... what, maybe five minutes, tops, since I told her to go ahead while I handled that freak with the eyeball on its shoulder?... So where the hell are they? They couldn't have left the station. They'd have needed a key card to open this, not to mention... She wouldn't just **leave** me here... Would she?_

"...No. No way," he whispered to himself.

Tony wasn't stupid enough to think that Claire would let any lingering anger she still had after their argument convince her to just up and ditch him. He remembered the relief and excitement on her face when they had first met up in the station courtyard, and the concern in her voice after he had ordered her to run off.

Nodding to himself, he looked the gate over once again, musing to himself, "In that case, where could she have gone, then?... Maybe to look for a key card, or stash that kid somewhere safe?"

Both were good possibilities. Claire liked children a lot more than he did, and it was entirely plausible she would have headed off somewhere to leave the little girl while she looked for a key card to open the gate up. Nodding, having mostly convinced himself that was the most likely scenario to explain his sweetheart's absence, Tony took a few steps backwards away from the gate, craning his head back to give it one final look over-

-when he stopped in his tracks, his head inching to look over his shoulder slowly, as his ears caught the soft *_click, clack_* of something sharp rapping slowly but repeatedly over the concrete ground. From behind one of the police cars, a shadow shifted, stepping out of the heavier darkness. The merc turned around completely to face the new arrival, his previously concerned expression melting away into a mocking grin of amusement as he took in the appearance this latest intruder.

"_Aww,_ wouldja look at that? It's a big ol' puppy! I love puppies!"

'Puppy' probably wasn't the best choice of descriptions of this beast. It was a full grown Doberman Pinscher, its dark fur helping it blend in with the shadows of the blackened parking lot. But thanks to lights from the idling car locked behind the gate behind the mercenary himself, he was easily able to see that this wasn't just some loose pet that had wandered into the lot. The mutt was missing patches of fur and skin, exposing glistening red muscle and sinew, while its cataract-covered eyes were locked with his own, strings of drool dribbling down its open lips as the undead beast snarled viciously with hunger.

"Huh. Zombie dog. Can't say I've ever seen one of you in a horror flick before..." Tony muttered aloud, his right hand reaching over to grasp the spiked hilt of his sword. Unsheathing Woozy from his back, his excited grin returned as he bared his own teeth in challenge to this new beast.

He extended his left hand out, wagging his fingers in invitation while whistling at it encouragingly. "_Here, boy! C'mon, puppy, let's go! Let's go!_" he prodded in a hushed voice brimming with eagerness.

The undead mutt seemed to understand his words easily enough. With a sudden bark of rage, the beast charged towards the pale-haired man, clearing the distance faster than the eye could follow, launching itself straight through the air, lunging for the its prey, its jaws open and aimed for his neck-

-when metal sang through air in the same moment, the long blade of Tony's sword colliding with the dog with a muted *_smack_* of forged steel meeting rotting flesh. With a pained, high-pitched yelp from the undead mutt, the heavy creature's flight path for the man's neck was promptly diverted. The carnivorous canine smacked into the concrete ground with a harsh *_CRACK_* of bone as several of its ribs snapped from the force of the impact.

Raising his sword back up, Redgrave observed the thin line of coagulated blood caught on Woozy's side, before giving the sword a sharp fling in an attempt to flick the blood off with a disgusted expression.

"_Ick. Nasty,_" he uttered out in disgust.

Balancing the broadsword across his shoulder and turning away from the zombie dog, the white-haired swordsman muttered to himself, "This is why people oughta keep their dogs on a leash. Let 'em roam around too much, and before you know it, Fido'll be taking a bite outta some poor slob, and'll have to get put down."

As he said this, Tony reached for his holstered Beretta with his left hand, while behind him, the undead dog rose back on wobbling legs, setting its whitened eyes back onto the man in red before growling again, a low rumble of rage and hunger before suddenly snapping its jaws in a spray of spittle, once more charging towards him. At the same time as the beast began its dash, the gunslinger spun around, his handgun held out, finger on the trigger-

*_BAM!_*

The brash young man blinked, confused by the sudden gunshot - one _not_ from his own gun - that was almost loud enough to drown out the pained yelp from the undead dog as its head snapped back, a good portion of its skull exploding in a shower of gore before its body crumpled to the floor with a wet smack, a pool of blood beginning to form around what was left of its head. Blinking, he looked down on the dead animal in confusion, still not entirely sure what just happened.

"_Hey!_" a loud voice uttered out from the darkness, breaking him from his reverie. "_Gotta be sharper than that!_"

Tony's head snapped to his left, his icy orbs spotting a figure enveloped in shadows over his shoulder, less than ten feet away from him. Their right hand was holding a smoking pistol.

Spinning around on his heels, the man leveled his own drawn sidearm at the new arrival, his expression annoyed, and grip on Woozy tightening. He was internally irked at both having his kill stolen, and the fact that this stranger had snuck up on him. Something only one other person had ever successfully done before: the very same bandaged-wrapped swordsman he was still convinced he had seen in that large machine room just under the very parking deck he now stood in.

Tony forced his annoyance down, keeping his focus entirely on the newcomer as they stepped closer, emerging from the heavier darkness into the bright path of the stopped car just outside the gate. Their right arm was still extended out, the small handgun - a Mauser HSc - held in one gloved hand, the barrel leveled at his face. The taller gunman was unafraid of the obvious threat, instead simply taking in the new person entirely now that he could see them clearly.

Or rather, _her_ clearly.

This new arrival was a woman about Claire's height - maybe just a bit taller - dressed in a closed, buttoned brown leather coat, her long legs covered in dark stockings, with a grey scarf wrapped snugly around her neck, and tucked into the collar of her coat. Her pale face contrasted with her short dark hair, the sunglasses over her eyes obscuring them from Tony's view. Meeting her hidden gaze, the mercenary kept his eyes locked on her shades, his gun never wavering.

Just as he was beginning to wonder if she was waiting for him to introduce himself, the woman suddenly ordered, "_Lower it._"

That got a smirk from the youth, followed by a defiant shake of his head. "Oh, I don't think so. See, I was always told to let ladies go first, so how 'bout _you_ lower _yours?_"

Though he couldn't see it, Redgrave could just somehow feel the woman roll her eyes as her left hand, hanging innocently by her hip, quickly dug into her coat's pocket, producing a wallet that she flipped open, exposing an I.D. and a distinct gold badge with three letters engraved on its surface.

"_F.B.I.,_" she said aloud to punctuate her point.

Cocking a brow, Tony lowered the Beretta down a slight bit, while letting Woozy fall back over his shoulder where it hung next to his shotgun.

"...A fed, huh?" he drawled. "Guess that explains what a nice lady like you's doin' in a hellhole like Raccoon City."

Again, he could feel her eyes roll, but while the young man had lowered his own weapon down, the newcomer still had her gun pointed at him.

Pointing towards the firearm while jerking his head back and down towards the dog's body, he asked, "Don't suppose you're expecting a 'thank you?'"

The federal agent cocked her head and raised a brow, but remained silent.

At that, Tony chuckled once under his breath, holstering his handgun while saying, "Quiet type, huh? That's _annoying..._ But don't worry. I won't take it personally."

The woman's expression remained neutral at his words, but as soon as the silver-haired youth had finished holstering his gun and sword, she drew her arm back, her finger off the trigger as she eased her thumb off the hammer of her small sidearm, slipping the small handgun back under her coat without a word.

The federal officer gave him a look over as well, her hidden eyes lingering on the horned skull and ribcage adorning the handle of his greatsword just peeking over his shoulder, before commenting, "...Surprised you made it this far. You must have some skill with that thing, after all... That big sword of yours, at least."

Scoffing off the veiled barb, Tony shrugged and replied, "Guns or blades, I'm the best there is. Bullets won't last forever down here, y'know." Lowering his arms, he glared at the federal woman with narrowed eyes. "But enough about me. Why's a fed in the middle of this shit show? Don't suppose you know anything about what's going on around here, do ya?"

She didn't respond to his query, opting instead to turn around, and begin walking away. She strode past several cars as she said, "Sorry. That information's classified."

Scoffing again, the mercenary himself rolling his eyes this time as he called after her, "Yeah, I think you missed the memo, sweetheart! Classified doesn't mean jack, right now!"

The agent whirled around to face him again, her expression intense, which stopped the vocal gunman from saying anything else. "Do yourself a favor, tough guy," she said mockingly. "Stop asking questions, and get the hell out of here while you still can. If you're as good as you say, that shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

With that ominous warning, she resumed her stride, with Tony spotting a door with a red glowing 'Exit' sign hanging over it further down the straight line she was power walking towards it.

Giving the closed gate another glance before looking back at her, he called after the federal agent. "Hey, wait! Did you happen see a young woman come through here?! Wears a pink vest, had a kid with her?!"

The agent ignored him, however, shoving the door open and stepping inside, vanishing from sight.

Huffing an aggravated sigh, the young man glanced at the gate again, his icy eyes looking past it after a moment, and spotting two more doors to his far right. His gaze narrowed, his frustration building.

Claire was gone. To where, he had no damn idea. And now there was an F.B.I. agent roaming around, too. Rubbing his brow, fighting a headache, Tony struggled to reach a decision.

_Claire could be anywhere down here... Maybe she heard the shot, and is on her way back here?... Or maybe she's found somewhere to lay low, and wait for me with the kid... Dammit. Decisions, decisions..._

With a sigh, the handyman turned to look back at the door the federal woman had walked through, his eyes narrowing again in contemplation.

_That woman... She claims to be a fed... She's gotta know something about whatever the hell turned this place into a zombie-filled hellhole. Maybe knows where we can find a safe way outta here... She's just gotta._

"...And at this point, I think it's about time I got some damn answers," Tony concluded grimly.

With that said, he began after her, his boots splashing through a small puddle of rainwater, leaving the dead dog behind him as he pursued this new player in the game of survival horror that Raccoon City had become.

* * *

Still sprawled across the cold floor of the shadow-filled kennel, Claire Redfield's wide grey-blue orbs flickered back and forth between the man's bandaged-wrapped face and cold, narrowed eyes, to the blood-dripping sword still held tightly in his right hand, and the large pile of flesh, bone, and blood that had once been the two eyeless, skinless monsters feasting over the ravaged corpse of a police dog. The figure's own eyes never wavered, locked directly onto her own, his fingers flexing over the ornate hilt of his blade. The bandages over his face hid his expression, but the woman could still see the intensity in his cold orbs.

The collegiate girl's mind was racing, trying to process everything that had just happened. _Those monsters... He... He killed them... But I didn't even see him do it... Wait... Did he just call me 'Tony's girlfriend?' How does **he** know **Tony?** Who the hell is he? **What** is he?! The way he killed those things... It not possible... Not... **human...**_

She tried to will herself to calm down, inhaling slowly and deeply to slow down her heartrate, fighting down her terror and confusion as she scrambled to form a plan to escape this bandaged swordsman. It wasn't going to be easy, though. She was literally trapped in a corner, and in the most vulnerable position possible. Claire knew she would be dead, her throat cut or stabbed through the heart in half the time it would take her to even try to get back on her feet.

*_BAM!_*

A gunshot, muffled by the walls of brick and concrete between it, still managed to echo loudly through the layers buffering the sound. The man in black's eyes flickered to his left, his head twitching to follow towards the source of the sound.

Claire saw her chance and took it.

Her right leg swept out, her riding boot sweeping for his black dress shoes-

-which became a black blur as the bandaged man promptly hopped over her sweeping kick, his eyes rounding back onto her, narrowed in a glare of annoyance.

Hissing a curse under her breath, Claire used her sudden momentum to roll quickly onto her front, shoving her knees against the hard floor to shoot herself back up to her feet, and prepared to make a mad dash for the steps just a few feet away-

-but came to a prompt stop when she felt cold steel against her neck. She froze in place, her eyes widening in realization that she was about to die.

The bandaged-wrapped man continued to glare down on her, inclining his head back slightly before shaking it mockingly, tapping the tip of his blade against the bottom of her jaw, making her flinch.

"Spirited, I see... That must be why he likes you."

The stranger's words were as cold as ice, the faintest hint of mockery under toning them. The cornered young woman fought down a retort, not wanting to give this bastard any excuse to slit her throat, while internally kicking herself for rushing off like she had. Sherry's life was at stake, and here she was, being held at sword point - of all things - while the child was in the clutches of that corrupt police chief.

Very slowly and deliberately, the man drew his sword back, keeping it just precious millimeters away from her vulnerable flesh, but slow enough to keep her from trying anything else. Pulling his blade back, he twirled it once, flinging drops of blood from the monsters he slew off its sharp edge before returning it to its scabbard, the scraping of metal against lacquered wood echoing loudly through the heavy silence. Once the hilt of the weapon issued a soft *_click_* as it met the tang of the sheathe, Claire finally managed to force her eyes to look back and meet the man's shadowed own, the lack of light making them look like dark pools filled with lingering contempt.

Swallowing, her mouth suddenly dry and hot, the woman forced herself to speak, managing to keep the tremors currently wracking her hands out of her words. "Who are you? How'd you do that, and how do you know Tony?"

Her voice was somewhat firm, but they lacked any real bite. The college student's eyes flickered back towards the pile of cut-apart monster flesh and blood before looking back at the mysterious swordsman. The corners of his gauze-wrapped mouth twitched up slightly, and she could imagine the smug smirk on his face, no doubt pleased by the effect his killing of those monsters had on her.

The stranger took a step back, his right hand slipping into a pocket as he continued to simply watch her silently for several moments before finally speaking, his voice muffled by the bandages slightly, making the girl strain to hear him.

"My name... is Gilver. I'm an... _acquaintance_ of Anthony's. We both get... _jobs_ at Bobby's Cellar."

His words were odd, the younger Redfield narrowing her eyes at the way he put emphasis on 'acquaintance' and 'jobs,' his phrasing further confusing her. Still, she couldn't stop her eyes from widening when he said 'Bobby's Cellar.'

"Bobby's Cellar?" she parroted in disbelief. "That place isn't real. It's just some urban legend they tell back home. There's no such thing as a dive bar for criminals and mercenaries, and even if it _was_ real, why would _Tony_ go there?"

Her words fell out of her mouth in a rush, her confusion towards this strange man just growing and growing. Frustratingly, she could see amusement dance through his shadowed eyes, the corners of the bandages around his mouth crinkling slightly once again. His single dry chuckle in response to her question made the young woman want to draw her revolver out, but she refrained, simply gritting her jaw, and clenching her fist tightly over the holstered sidearm.

"You truly know nothing about him... As I suspected," he murmured, favoring her with a look that was infuriatingly piteous.

Unable to fight down her growing anger blinding her to the fact this individual was dangerous, and could still easily kill her if he chose to do so, Claire snapped back, "What's _that_ supposed to mean?! How does some mummy-wrapped freak like you even _know_ Tony?!"

Her words failed to get a rise out of him, his eyes remaining narrowed down on her as he cocked his head, looking her over once more before speaking again. "I am far more familiar with Anthony Redgrave than you realize. More than even he himself cares to be aware of... At least for now."

His words made her blink, their meaning completely lost. But before the young biker could say anything else, or even demand to know what he was babbling about, he spoke again.

"Though you may be his lover, it's painfully obvious that you don't know a single thing about him. Or rather... the _real_ him," he mused aloud.

"The real... Tony?" she echoed back, her earlier anger now completely lost to the confusion this strange man named Gilver was filling her with. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Tell me, child... What do you _really_ know about Tony Redgrave?" Gilver asked suddenly.

Claire huffed to herself, shaking her head at such a ludicrous question. "I know _plenty,_ actually," she snapped back. "I know his favorite music, his favorite foods, and the kinds of movies he likes. I've been with him for almost a year, now, so whatever you're trying to get at-"

"When was he born?" the bandaged swordsman interjected over her words, making her stop.

She blinked, wracking her mind...

The auburn-haired girl could easily recall earlier in the year when she and Tony had celebrated her birthday at the small diner they had their first date in - Fredi's - but...

Claire realized Tony had _never_ told her his birthday.

"Where is he from?" he inquired, drawing his head back slightly, his dark eyes betraying nothing.

...Claire found herself unable to respond.

She had met Tony in one of the more seedier bars of the city, but she had always figured he was a native city boy. It never occurred to her until now, however, that he might have moved in from somewhere else.

"What is it that he's told you he does for a living?" he pried further.

Claire was almost ashamed of the relief she felt, unable to hold back a smug grin of her own as she quickly replied, "He's a handyman; a freelance worker who gets jobs from some guy named Morrison."

Gilver nodded at her response, but his next words chilled her rising triumph dead in its tracks. "Well... that's not _entirely_ a falsehood on his part. He _does_ get jobs from Morrison on occasion, and he is indeed a handyman... One willing to take on _any_ job, no matter how dirty. He's quite infamous down in Bobby's Cellar in that regard." Raising his empty hand from his pocket, he began to tick off fingers with each word he spoke next. "Protection, racketeering, transportation... but never any assassination jobs. Even _he_ seems to have so-called standards."

Claire felt the tremors wracking her hands move up her arms and through her torso, making their way down her legs. She was finding it very hard to remain standing still, her eyes wide with renewed horror and disbelief.

_He... He-he's **lying...** He **has** to be!... Tony isn't...! Tony's **not** a criminal!_

The stranger lowered his hand, looking back down on Claire, his eyes once more amused at her obvious state of disbelief. "How pitiful... You've allowed this man into your life, but it's quite clear he's kept you in the dark about his." The mysterious man closed his eyes, leaning his head back slightly. "Admittedly, he is rather... _charismatic._ With that in mind, a woman like you being so easily enamored of someone like him is unsurprising... But let me ask you this."

Lowering his head and opening his dark eyes to lock with her own, Gilver's next question froze her completely. "What if I told you there is no man named Anthony Redgrave? What if I told you he doesn't exist?... What if I told you he is not who you think he is... or even who _he _thinks he is?"

Claire forced herself to breathe, to blink, her mind screaming at her to run away... But she couldn't.

Because Gilver was _right._

What _did_ she really know about Tony Redgrave? She knew he liked rock and roll, and heavy metal. That if he could, he'd live exclusively on pizza and strawberry ice cream for the rest of his days. That he loved a good action flick, or a cheesy old monster movie...

But had she ever seen him fix _anything_ around his apartment? If he was a handyman like he'd told her he was, then why had she never seen him lift a tool except to work on his bike or hers? And for a so-called 'handyman,' he loved to go through money like it was going out of style, spending amounts it would take the average person to make in a _year_ instead of every other week after a 'job.' How did he know how to use guns the way he could, with skills exceeding that of even her own brother's sharpshooting, which had taken him _years_ to hone?

And why - _why _\- had she allowed herself to turn a blind eye to it for so long?

Deep down, she knew _something_ was off about his story. She implied as much during the argument they had before she stormed off to Raccoon City. But the way he made her feel, and how he made her happy... Claire didn't want to believe it.

But whether she believed it or not, the truth was that Gilver was right.

She _didn't_ know Tony Redgrave. Not really.

The swordsman's hand slipped inside his shirt, the bandage-covered hand producing a small key a moment later. He extended his arm out, offering the item to her. The young woman blinked, looking down at offered trinket.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, she took the key, seeing the pink diamond emblem engraved at the head of it. Her eyes widened as she realized this was the very key she needed to get into that locked room next to that elevator she had come across earlier.

Looking up from the key to meet Gilver's eyes once again, Claire asked in a hushed voice, "Where did you...?"

"Clasped in the hand of an undead in the morgue ahead. It will allow you to advance further... You'll find what you need back in the police station," he explained, before turning away from her, and striding towards the door she had entered from.

Baffled, the youngest Redfield called after him, "I don't understand! Why are you telling me all this?! What do you want?!"

The retreating stranger paused in his steps, inclining his head to look back at her from over his shoulder before replying, "You've told me nothing I hadn't already suspected. Consider that key reimbursement in exchange for a moment of your time." Turning his head forward, the mysterious swordsman called to her as he approached the exit. "When you see Anthony again, give him my regards, would you?... But keep this in mind, child..."

He shoved the door open and stepped through it, his last words still reaching her as he vanished from her sight. "Tony Redgrave is _not_ who you believe him to be... or rather, _what_ you believe him to be."

The door to the hallway outside the kennel swung shut, leaving Claire alone with the dead dogs and the pile of mincemeat and blood that had been the skinless, eyeless monsters Gilver had killed, the bandaged man having never answered her question as to how he had slayed them.

In the back of her mind, the young woman wondered if the man in black even _was_ a man underneath those bandages, or if he was a worser monster than the kinds wandering Raccoon City's streets. His strange words about Tony and his identity had left her confused and upset - mostly at herself - because as much as she hated to admit it, he was right. She really _didn't_ know Tony as well as she once thought she did.

But now wasn't the time to think on that. Sherry's life was in danger, and she was the only one who could do anything about it. Slipping the key into her hip pouch, Claire made for the exit Gilver had gone through, heading for the door, her next destination the hallway the police chief had emerged from.

She needed to find a key card to open the parking gate, and she just knew there had to be one somewhere in the station. All she had to do was find it.

And then she was going to make that fat son of a bitch pay.

* * *

The door the federal woman had walked through swung open once again, Tony stepping inside the new section of the basement deck of the station, his pale blue eyes taking in the concrete walls around him, the iron bar cell doorway half a dozen feet away from where he stood, and the small office section to his immediate left, a clear glass window pane showing him its interior.

Looking around, briefly pausing to glance at the body of a dead officer laying face down on the opposite side of the gated door, the merc set his gaze forward before calling, "_Yo! Fed lady!_"

Silence, the lack of response telling the young man the woman either hadn't heard him, and had somehow gotten even deeper into this new area... or, more likely, she _had_ heard him, and was choosing to ignore him. Sighing and shrugging, Tony moved into the small office room, giving it a quick look over for anything of use. Upon spotting a red box of nine-millimeter bullets, he snatched it up, and stuffed the box into one of his coat's many pockets.

He had wasted more ammunition than he thought during his fight with that strange, pipe-toting monster. And while Woozy would ensure he wouldn't be totally defenseless if and when he ran out of bullets, it wasn't something he was planning on happening just yet. Turning away from the small table the bullets had been resting on, the crimson-coated man spotted a folded map resting in a hanging file rack. Grabbing the map out of the file, he opened it up, and spread the large sheet over the table, looking over the drawn layout of the station's basement floor.

Tracing his finger over the lines of the map, the merc murmuring aloud, "So, I'm... _here._" He tapped the small square next to a larger series of rectangles side-by-side with the word 'Jail' written on it. From what he could tell, there was only nine holding cells total, and there was a part of him hoping one of them was where Claire and the little girl might be.

Remembering his fickle luck, Tony sighed and mumbled, "Yeah, let's not get our hopes up... So what else is down here?"

As he spoke, he dragged his finger over to the other side of the map, his eyes poring over the series of areas marked 'Firing Range,' 'Kennel,' 'Morgue,' and 'Generator Room.' The youth frowned, finding himself anxious at the idea of Claire and the girl wandering into either the kennel or the morgue. No doubt the kennel was the source of that undead dog he had encountered earlier. And where there was one wandering around, there had to be more.

The morgue was another bad idea, especially in a crisis that made the dead rise from their graves, and take a bite out of the living. The pale-haired man moved his finger over the section of the map between the firing range and generator room, the lines drawn in small rectangles stacked side-by-side, which he figured were a set of stairs leading back to the first floor of the police station. Wracking his brain to recall the layout of the station in his brief jaunt through it, Tony surmised that if Claire and the kid had taken those stairs, they'd be back somewhere along the east wing of the station; the first area he and his girlfriend had gone through.

That wasn't much better, but still potentially safer than anything else down there. He was about to turn away from the map and resume his search for the federal agent when he happened to catch something odd on the map out of the corner of his eye. Looking back down, he frowned, noting there was a long corridor drawn out by the gate; an area he had missed on his initial viewing. It was an odd spot, going straight for a few inches before turning left, and stopping at a dead end, with a small room drawn along it as well.

"Well, well, well. A closet space, maybe?" he mused aloud.

It was probably nothing, but he'd check it out regardless. There wasn't that much down here to cover, and there were only so many places Claire and the little girl could have gone.

Nodding in satisfaction, Tony stepped away from table, and headed towards the gate door, shoving it open, and stepping over the body of the cop.

Letting the gate close behind him, the mercenary started to bend down while saying, "Pardon me fella, just need to-" but stopped when he saw the ammo pouch on the belt was already open and empty. Frowning in annoyance, he rose back up while muttering, "I guess great minds think alike..."

As he turned and took a step away from the corpse, the cop's head began to rise, its white eyes locked onto Tony's ankle, one gray and bloody arm reaching out to snatch it-

*_SHINK!_*

The barbed tip of Tony's greatsword descended swiftly and with enough force to pierce through the zombie's skull and into the concrete floor below, causing the undead to spasm, dark blood gushing out of its mouth, its final exhale a gurgle as its outstretched arm went still. Yanking his sword out of the body without even bothering to turn around, the red swordsman saw his way forward was blocked by a locked gate, and so turned his icy eyes towards the long dark corridor to his left.

The heavy shadows engulfed the cell block, a feeble light flickering at the very end, while hungry groans could be heard echoing through the darkness. Narrowing his eyes, the mercenary walked towards the front gate, and gave one of the bars a tug, confirming it was locked, meaning the federal woman had to gone down the other corridor.

With a shrug and mumble of "Figures," the young man turned to the side, and made his way down the shadowed cell block.

The first cell to his right held a lone female ghoul standing and clutching the bars of her cage, groaning pitifully as the crimson-coated youth walked right by her. "Yeah, yeah, heard it all before, sister."

Most of the cells were occupied by at least two bodies, their skin gray and clothes bloodstained, but they were all seemingly dead, collapsed on their cells floors. Some were on top of each other, but the second to last cell held a rather large male ghoul that charged against his cell's door, rattling it, and snarling with rage and hunger, its bloody hands grasping futilely for Tony, who remained well out of its reach.

"If you can't do the time, don't do the crime, tubby," he chided the zombie, pausing in his steps to grin and snicker to himself. "Always wanted to say that..."

Exiting the cell block, Tony glanced to his left, seeing another closed-off gate, which was more than likely locked like the other one. Waking by two more cells, the second-to-last contained a lone ghoul that simply stood on swaying legs, its cataract-coated eyes staring at the wall, ignoring the sword-toting man entirely. He then saw that the path ahead was a dead-end, with a few small tables set against the far-off wall, and a faint light emitting from the last cell stationed to his left.

The swordsman in red stopped, his nostrils flaring suddenly as his eyes narrowed in a sudden scowl as he caught a familiar smell. One he absolutely hated, even compared to the rancid stink of the rotting flesh of the countless zombies he had encountered so far in Raccoon City.

_Nicotine._

Waving his hand in front of his nose as he continued forward, Tony's eyes fell on the last cell of the block, the faint light inside of it casting faint shadows across the floor. One of those shadows was of a small cot hanging by chains attached to the wall...

With someone sitting on it.

"_...Hello?_" a nervous voice called out.

Rounding out of the shadows to step into the light, Tony revealed himself to the cell's occupant, his icy blue eyes looking over the prisoner. It was man around his height, maybe a few years older, a light beard on his elated face, dressed in a brown jacket over a blue shirt and jeans, the sleeves of the jacket rolled up to his elbows. He had glasses over his brown eyes that matched his long hair, tied into a short ponytail just over the nape of his neck. The man excitedly rose up from his cot to approach his cell's bars where his guest stood opposite of him.

The stench of that foul nicotine smoke grew stronger as he closed the distance between them, and out of the bottom corner of Tony's eyes, he saw the source of the smell was a lit death stick clutched in-between the fingers of the prisoner's right hand.

Not seeing the new arrival's annoyance at the cigarette, the man happily clutched one of his cell door's bars while breathing in relief, "I don't believe it. A real human! Hello, human!"

That odd comment had Tony cock a brow, and his mouth moved to respond automatically. "Well, you're half-right, other human."

That made him freeze up and blink, a sudden chill shivering down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. _Why the hell did I say that? What does that even **mean?!**_

The man in the cell didn't seem to even hear his odd words, looking pleadingly at the pale-haired man, and quickly asking, "Are we the last ones alive?"

His question brought Tony out of his thoughts, and he met the other man's gaze to shake his head in denial. "No. There's a few others. Not many, though..."

"Oh... " The man in the cell breathed a sigh of relief before quickly sticking his cigarette between his lips to inhale a long drag from it. "That's good news, I guess."

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Redgrave crossed his arms over his chest while asking, "Been down here long?"

Nodding and removing his cigarette from his mouth, also angling his head away from Tony as he exhaled a cloud of smoke - which the merc was totally grateful for - he answered, "Long enough... You gotta tell me, is Irons still alive?"

That made Tony blink and frown at the anxiety in the man's question. "Who's Irons?" he inquired, though he suspected he had to be another cop if this guy was nervous just saying his name.

The jailbird laughed bitterly, shaking his head and replying, "Who cares? Hopefully, he's somebody's dinner by now."

Chuckling under his breath at the clear bitterness in the man's words, the younger man found himself asking, "Lemme guess: he's the guy that put you down here? What'd you do to piss him off?"

The other man leaned back to take another long drag of his smoke, tossing the smoking butt aside before answering in an exhale of smoke, "I was about to blow the whistle on his dirty ass." Now that comment caught Tony's attention as the man shrugged and added under his breath, "I'd have done the same thing, too, I guess."

Intrigued, but feigning disinterest, the youth waved his hand and turned as if to move away from the cell, while saying, "Eh, crooked cops are a dime a dozen. Doesn't sound that interesting to me..."

Falling for the feint, the man snatched the cell's bars and quickly exclaimed, "No, no, man! Irons isn't just a cop. He's the frickin' _police chief!_ He was set to announce his candidacy for mayor in November before all this zombie shit went down! And here's the real kicker!" Looking over his shoulder to meet the other man's excited, sweaty face, Tony continued to listen as the prisoner went on in a hushed whisper. "He's in the pocket of the people responsible for all this! Has been for _years!_ That's why he dismissed the S.T.A.R.S. unit after they came back with evidence on the ones behind the murders that started back in May! They knew who was behind it, but he framed them on some bullshit drug charges!"

_S.T.A.R.S... That's the police unit Claire's brother was a part of._

And just like that, more pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. Tony was still wondering what exactly had happened in July to Claire's brother's team, but he was beginning to suspect it was all connected to what was currently happening in Raccoon City at this very moment.

Turning around to completely face the prisoner again, the younger man asked, "How do you know all this?"

"I'm a reporter. I've been following the case for months, digging up anything I could find, and it all traces back to Irons and the people he's been secretly working for. I was so close; _so_ damn close! I had a contact who was gonna help me get the last bit of evidence I needed to blow this whole thing wide open!" the man in the cell revealed in a rush, his brown eyes wide and desperate, his hands still wrapped tight around two bars of his cells bone white.

"And then Irons went and locked you up to keep you quiet," the other man finished.

The reporter nodded and opened his mouth to say something else when a sudden, strange sound pierced through darkened corridor Tony had gone through earlier. Both prisoner and gunman turned their gazes sharply at the sound, the crimson-coated swordsman narrowing his eyes while the imprisoned reporter seemed to grow even paler.

The reporter suddenly snatched at something around his neck while quickly saying, "Hey! I'll make you a deal..." The sword-toting mercenary looked back, his eyes falling on the small lanyard hanging around the reporter's neck, the small card attached to it reading 'Parking Permit.' "Unlock this cell, and I'll give you this," he declared, his expression far calmer than he actually was, from what Tony could see from the sweat running down his brow.

Now _that_ had the man in red even more interested. This reporter had been going on and on about the corruption linking the police chief with the people apparently behind the zombie outbreak in the city, eagerly ranting about what he had uncovered... and suddenly, his entire tune had changed? Now he was trying to bargain out of a locked cell, which, despite all things, was probably one of the better spots to wait this disaster out. If and when the cavalry decided to show, he'd be safe in there until then. So why the change?

Tony mused over the offer for a moment, before shaking his head and saying, "Nah, I don't think so."

The reporter's eyes bugged out behind his glasses, and the trickster had to resist the urge to laugh at the sight. He was gonna let the guy out, and he did need that parking pass, but he wasn't leaving until he found Claire. And besides, he really did want to hear everything else the man had uncovered.

If there was guilty party to this disaster, Tony Redgrave intended to get some justice for Raccoon City, one way or another.

"Come on, man, there's no other way out of that parking garage! Believe me!" the reporter exclaimed, his eyes darting from Tony to the shadowed corridor every few seconds.

Shrugging, keeping his voice neutral and bored, the younger man replied, "Never said I was tryin' to leave, pal. Not just yet, at least. Street's aren't exactly any safer, y'know." With that said, he turned around and made to begin walking away, telling the reporter as he did, "I've got somebody I need to find first. Once I do, I'll come back and bust you out. You're better off in there than coming along with me, anyway. It's still pretty dangerous down here."

As he was a few steps away, the merc heard the prisoner calling after him, desperation in his tone. "Look, we're both prisoners in this station. So let's just play nice, and help each other out-"

The man's begging was cut off when a much louder sound suddenly echoed from the cell block corridor, one that got Tony's full attention this time, stopping him in place less than three feet away from the reporter's cell. His icy orbs narrowed. He could swear that sound had been footsteps...

_Heavy_ footsteps.

"_Shit..._" the reporter hissed in horror behind him, and the gunman could see in his mind the man's face somehow going even paler. "It's coming."

That comment caused Tony's head to snap back to look at the other male, who was beginning to stumble away from the cell door, his hand gripping the parking pass shaking in abject terror.

"Wait, hold up, what'd you just say? _What's_ coming?" the merc demanded.

The reporter glared back at Tony, gesturing at him with the key card in his hand while shouting, "C'mon!... C'mon, stop being an asshole, okay?! You _need_ this!_ Just get me the fuck out of here!_"

Glaring back, Redgrave sighed a "_Tch,_" and drew Woozy from over his shoulder. At the sight of the gothic-looking greatsword, the reporter yelped and jumped back, smacking into the cell's back wall, eyes wide as saucers.

"Stay right there. I don't wanna cut you on accident. I'll have you out in just a sec-" Tony was saying as he raised his blade with one hand, lining the tip of the weapon up for the small space where the cell door's lock was.

*_BOOM!_*

A thunderous crash of smashing rock erupted through the air, dust and debris flying around the reporter's face as a massive hand in a black glove with metal lining over the back of the palm burst through the solid brick behind him to snatch the man's face. The prisoner screamed in horror, and Tony froze in shock as the hand rose up, dragging the struggling reporter with it, the bricks and concrete of the wall in its path crumbling to dust from its raw strength.

The startled young man let Woozy fall back over his shoulder, his hands producing his Beretta and Colt, but no sooner did he get a lock on the gloved hand tightening its fingers over the reporter's face-

_*SPLORCH!*_

Tony winced in a combination of horror and disgust as the man's face _imploded,_ his skull crushed like a melon, his left eye popping out of its socket and through the lens of his glasses, blood erupting in a small fountain of gore to line the walls and floor of the cell. The massive hand let the reporter's corpse fall to the floor, the limb pulling back into the darkness. The younger man stared at the other man's corpse with wide eyes, but as soon as he heard those thunderous footsteps once again, his handguns were back up and aimed at the holes in the cell's wall.

But whatever it was that killed the reporter was already gone, the echoes of its heavy steps fading as quickly as they came.

For a moment, Tony was alone, unable to process exactly what had just happened. His mind's eye kept replaying the image of that massive hand crushing the reporter's screaming face in a fleshy mulch and blood. That hand, covered in black leather, had lines of metal crisscrossing over the back of the palm...

The shape reminded him of an 'X.'

The soft clatter of approaching footsteps snapped him out of his daze. No sooner did his ears catch the soft *_click-clack_* rapping off the concrete floor did Tony spin around to face the origin of the sounds, his Beretta and Colt leveled out in front of himself. Shadowed lens met his icy gaze.

"It's just me," the woman in the trench coat said, still wearing her sunglasses despite the heavily-shadowed interior. When Tony only narrowed his gaze into an annoyed glare, as he once again found himself baffled that this woman had somehow snuck up on him not once, but _twice,_ she stopped her approach to return the scowl, pointing a single finger at his handguns. "So you can put those things away."

Huffing under his breath, the gunslinger pulled his arms back, giving both sidearms a spin by their triggers before slipping them back into their holsters under his coat. Crossing his arms and staring down at the mysterious woman, the snowy-haired male inquired, "You know, I'm _really_ starting to wonder why an F.B.I. agent's lurking around a zombie-infested police station's holding cells. Shouldn't you be off doin' whatever it is you were sent here to do?"

She began to move past the taller man while replying, "I'm looking for someone. An informant with information relevant to my investigation."

At the word 'informant,' Tony felt another piece of the puzzle fall into place.

As the agent turned her hidden eyes towards the cell, the young mercenary spoke again just as she spotted the gory remains of the imprisoned journalist's crushed skull. "You're about a minute late, sweetheart. Looks like he couldn't squeeze you into his schedule."

As soon as the quip fell out of his mouth, the federal woman rounded about to glare at him from behind her glasses. "You think this is funny?" she hissed, her voice low and aggravated.

The man shrugged, waving off her annoyance as he replied, "Humor's how I cope."

With a disgusted "_Ugh_" and roll of her eyes behind her sunglasses, the federal agent turned away from him to look back at the body of the reporter, her hidden gaze moving from the body to the gaping hole in the cell's back wall, where dust still hung in the air, a few pebbles of crushed bricks rolling onto the floor without a sound.

As she continued to study the cell's interior, Tony turned his head towards her, breaking the brief silence. "You were his contact, right? The one helping him build his story on that crooked police chief."

The woman nodded slowly, her voice low as she elaborated, "Like I said, he had information of use to my investigation. We collaborated. I helped him find what he needed to prove Irons' corruption, he looked into something for me in return."

She strayed off, going silent for another moment before craning her head back slightly to gaze up at him, her expression grave. "You should take my advice, and get out of here... Unless you want to end up like poor Ben, here."

With that ominous warning issued, the agent began to walk away once again, sending another spike of annoyance through the young man. Stomping after her, he snatched her arm while snapping, "You know, I'm getting _real_ sick of you walkin' away from me!"

No sooner had his fingers closed over her upper arm did the federal woman stop and spin around, using her momentum to try and jerk herself free. Tony's grip was like iron, however, leaving her only yanking her arm, and causing a wince to flinch across her stoic face, briefly breaking her mask of cool indifference. Realizing he might have taken it a step to far, the mercenary released his hold on the agent, who took a healthy step back, her right hand moving under her coat and staying there, the threat clear.

Stepping back and holding his hands up, he offered her an apologetic smile. "Look, clearly we got off on the wrong foot. So let's start over... My name's Tony. Tony Redgrave."

The woman glared at him from behind her sunglasses, but slowly lowered her hand, seeming to study him a moment, before finally replying, "Find a way out, Tony. Before it's too late... _Then_ we'll talk." With that said, she once more turned around to resume departing, but not before calling back to the snowy-haired youth. "Name's Ada."

Smirking and taking a few steps back himself, Tony glanced at the locked cell door between himself and the body of the reporter, Ben, before calling after the agent, Ada. "If that's all, sweetheart, then don't go too far!"

His words did make her steps slow, and just as Ada was turning around to give him a look of confusion, her hidden eyes widened as Tony drew his gothic longsword over his shoulder with one hand. Lining the barbed tip with the small gap in the cell bars where the lock of the door extended, the swordmaster swung his blade down in a single stroke. Then he slid it back over his shoulder from where he had drawn it, and with his free hand, shoved the cell door open before stepping inside.

Approaching Ben's corpse, he gave the body an apologetic look before crouching down onto his knees, and reaching out to grasp the parking gate key card still hanging from around the man's neck. With a gentle tug, the lanyard snapped off easily, and he began to rise back up when he noticed something poking out of the interior pocket of Ben's vest. Bending back down and grabbing the item out of the pocket, the red-clad merc saw that it was a miniature tape recorder.

Rising back up to his feet with a grin, he exited the cell, and saw that Agent Ada was still waiting only a few feet away, her arms crossed and expression neutral. Walking towards her and holding up his right hand that held both items, he presented the parking pass and the tape recorder to the federal agent with a triumphant grin.

"Our way out, with a cherry on top," he announced, still grinning.

When the woman uncrossed her arms and reached out with her own right hand for the items, Redgrave pulled his hand back, just out of her grasp.

Shaking his head, the trickster teasingly chided her, "_Ah-ah-ah-ah!_ The deal was I find us a way outta here, _then_ we'd talk. Now, seeing as how I'm a gentleman, I'll escort you outta here. And as we walk, _you talk._ Ben never finished his story, but I get the feeling you can pick up where he left off. And just to show you I can play fair..."

He extended his arm out, offering the tape recorder to her.

Ada looked from the offered recorder and then back to Tony, before reaching out and taking the small device. Slipping it into her pocket, she turned around and began walking away, but gave the young man an inviting nod to follow. "It's a short walk and a long story, so try to keep up."

Two long strides, and the mercenary was easily keeping pace with her, still smirking as he said, "I'm all ears, doll. Now spill. I'm just _dying_ to know who's behind this mess."

* * *

Returning to the small hallway with the locked door and elevator, Claire used the diamond key given to her by the bandaged-wrapped stranger calling himself 'Gilver' to unlock the diamond symbol-marked door, and quickly discovered a small power station, which she activated by pulling a large lever down. This caused a loud hum to echo through the enclosed space, and the college student was relieved to discover the elevator was now working. She quickly stepped inside, and hit the only button, causing the cart to rumble back to life.

The old elevator rose smoothly upward, and less than a minute later, she watched as the gated door slid open on its own, letting the cool, rain-soaked air flow in, the gentle pitter-patter of the falling water droplets easing her, somewhat. Stepping out of the cart and into the open night, the girl realized she was atop a small section of the police station, and she quickly spotted an open passageway less than ten feet ahead, past a small AC unit and some potted herbs or ferns. Not sensing any danger, but wanting to remain cautious, the young woman drew out her small revolver, keeping it ready at her side as she moved for the passageway.

She found herself in a bricked wall corridor - a small one, at that - another open doorway less than twenty feet ahead of her, faint light emitting from it to lessen the shadows. Pausing to draw her revolver, Claire moved forward towards the light, quickly stepping through the doorway, handgun raised, and sweeping from side-to-side quickly. The college girl found herself in a well-furnished and spacious office, with Claire herself standing behind a large, polished desk, an American flag hanging less than a foot away from her by a pole connected to a wall, a small table situated in the center of the room standing over a plush and expensive-looking rug, and at least three large shelf cases, one on the far wall, and two more on either side of herself, along with a few potted plants, ferns, herbs, and so on.

It was also filled with over half-a-dozen dead and stuffed animals, from two deer heads by a coat rack next to the door along the furthest off wall, a wolf standing guard in front of the shelf case, a mounted eagle to her left, as well as a stuffed raccoon situated directly on the desk she stood in front of. Lowering her revolver, Claire's expression was one of utter disgust as she observed every grisly 'trophy' within the room. Holstering her weapon, she stepped closer to the desk, pushing the leather chair aside.

When she spotted the name plaque reading 'C. Brian Irons,' it was the only confirmation she needed.

_So the creep's into taxidermy... Why am I not surprised? _she thought to herself, unable to keep the revulsion and disgust out of her eyes as they fell on the dead and stuffed raccoon on the desk, forever trapped in a snarling pose of a preemptive attack.

Killing an animal for sport was something she frowned upon, but desecrating their bodies afterwards and posing them like trophies was a whole other level of depravity and cruelty. Looking away from the dead animal, Claire began tugging the small drawers on the desk open, slamming them shut almost as quickly when saw nothing of use inside them.

_Bastard had a parking pass on him... He's got to have another somewhere around here..._

There was no parking pass in any of the drawers in the desk, though she did pocket a clip of nine-millimeter ammunition. The young woman was about to step away from the desk and begin searching the other shelf cases when she noticed an open folder with a few scraps of paper inside it. Furrowing her brow, Claire picked the folder up, and before she could stop herself, found her eyes poring over the typed words.

**Police Chief Irons,**

**As thanks for your unwavering support, I have deposited a small sum into your account, to use as you see fit. I hope I can count on you to maintain surveillance over your subordinates, especially the ones who survived that mansion.**

**Get rid of them if you must.**

**W. B.**

**Police Chief Irons,**

**I ran into some trouble with Umbrella headquarters. The suits want to take the fruit of my research away. But don't worry, this will all blow over soon. You just keep doing what I tell you to and everything will be all right.**

**W. B.**

**Police Chief Irons,**

**You are to up the security around my lab. Your muscleheads are to shoot any suspicious person on sight. Doesn't matter if they kill them, or even if they're Umbrella employees. I'm so close to completing G, and no asshole is going to get in my way.**

**W. B.**

**Police Chief Irons,**

**Get your shit together and do your fucking job! I TOLD YOU I need more security in the sewers! Don't you know how critical of a time this is for me!? As for the money, I can pay you whatever once I take over, but not before. Why don't you get that!? Never forget how expendable you are.**

**W. B.**

For several moments, Claire could only stare at the words on the piece of paper, comprehending them slowly as their true meaning began to sink in.

_Mansion survivors... Research... Umbrella..._

Just like that, it all fell into place.

"_Umbrella,_" she breathed aloud, remembering her conversation with Tony as they had driven into the city only a few hours ago, but felt more like months, and the comment Sherry had made back underground below the station about her mother making 'important new medicine,' and working for Umbrella, who had several plants throughout the city, and employed a large number of the city's inhabitants.

No matter how you chose to look at it, it all came back to them.

She didn't have all the pieces, and she still didn't understand exactly what had happened to Chris and his teammates when they went on that mission in July, but these messages to Irons cleared up and explained the situation in Raccoon clearly.

_Umbrella... Someone at Umbrella was doing research on something, or making something... And it spilled, breaking out and contaminating the city, turning all these people into undead monsters... And Irons knew about it the whole **goddamn** time! He was **protecting** them, and getting **paid** for it!_

"Corrupt son-of-a-bitch...!" she hissed out through gritted teeth, the papers in her hands crumbling as her fingers dug into them, her arms shaking as the fury spread through her veins like molten fire.

Unable to reign her anger back, Claire furiously threw the file and papers aside, slamming her hands down on the desk hard enough to send painful reverberations through both of her arms, but she ignored the discomfort, her beautiful face twisted in an enraged scowl. Slowly, she forced her anger to subside, willing it down, but not away.

She'd save it for later, preferably when she found Irons, and secured Sherry's safety. That dark promise had a soothing effect on her, her expression turning from furious to neutral, and she pulled her hands off the desk, taking a deep inhale of breath to steady herself further. Claire had every right to be angry at the callous cost of numerous lives lost in Raccoon City, but for now, the young woman had to focus on finding another parking pass so she could escape the station once and for all, and find wherever Irons had taken Sherry.

With that decided, she began to walk around the desk, already planning to tear this office apart in her search for a parking pass. Irons was the chief of police, so it was more than likely he'd kept at least two or more around for visiting guests or something to that effect. She noticed a second door tucked away between two of the shelves along the walls, and decided she'd check whatever was back there first-

-when the old rotary phone atop Irons desk suddenly began issuing a shrill ringing, the handset shaking heavily between each sharp bell hard enough to shudder slightly across the wooden surface. Freezing, completely caught off-guard, Claire could only stare at the phone for several seconds in complete bafflement as the handset shook with each accompanying ring, before finally hesitantly reaching for the handset, picking it up off its cradle, and raising it to her ear.

"Hello...?" she asked hesitantly, a part of her hoping that whoever it was on the opposite end of the line was someone who could help her find Sherry, and get out of this necropolis alive...

But that brief hope dashed as soon as she heard the voice on the other end respond. _"You shouldn't go through other people's belongings like that. It's quite rude."_

Claire jerked her head back away from the phone in disgust, her lips pursing like she had tasted something foul as she recognized the voice on the line. She had met its owner not even an hour ago, after all.

_"Good to see you again, Claire,"_ Chief Irons went on, and the collegiate girl could easily picture the slimy smirk on his fat face from wherever he was.

_"We've got unfinished business..."_

* * *

The walk back to the entrance of the holding cells section of the basement was mostly silent, both Tony and Ada remaining quiet, though the same couldn't be said for the few zombies pathetically grasping for them, unable to reach them thanks to the iron bars between the living and the undead. Walking over the corpse of the officer by the front gate, the man pulled the door of it open, allowing the woman in first before stepping after her, pulling the gate closed shut as firmly as he could. As he did this, the federal agent held up the small recorder he had procured from Ben's body, pressing a small button on its side while moving the recorder closer to her ear.

The words that began to play from it were on a low volume, but Tony was easily able to pick up the recorded conversation even less than three feet away from her, his ears attuned, and his full attention focused on the two set of voices that began to playback from the dead reporter's recorder. The first voice was a man's, and Tony quickly recognized it was Ben's own, while the second voice was a woman's.

"_-but that doesn't explain the rumors about the orphanage. I-I just find it way too coincidental Umbrella's one of the benefactors."_

"_You told me this interview was about the new scholarship Umbrella set up."_

"_Come on, Annette. Nobody cares about this. They want to know about the G-Virus, and the-"_

"_Where did you hear about this?"_

"_-and that big fucking sinkhole in the city, which, by the way, rumor has it goes straight to your underground lab."_

A tense moment of silence passed.

"_Now are you going to talk to me, or are you-"_

"_This interview is over."_

A beat of silence, then a single word uttered in a tone of disgusted anger.

"_...Bitch."_

That got a slight quirk that made Ada's lips twitch into a brief smile, though it vanished as soon as the recorder issued a faint *_click_* to indicate the playback had concluded.

Bemused by Ben's comment as well, but keeping his own expression neutral as he resumed following the woman for the door to the parking deck, Tony quickly asked, "Get what you need from that?"

"Unfortunately, no. Ben didn't come through."

Her disappointment was obvious, and while the mercenary was unsure of what exactly she had been hoping to hear from the recording, he was hiding his own growing intrigue. From the sound of it, the woman on the tape, Annette, was a scientist working on something called the 'G-Virus.'

_Could that be the so-called zombie disease that overtook Raccoon City? _he briefly wondered, but found himself pulled out of his thoughts before he could ponder further.

"Heard of the Umbrella Corporation?"

Agent Ada asked the sudden question as soon as they stepped back into the Parking Garage. Tony, who had kept up with her the entire time, his own lips sealed shut for once while patiently waiting for the federal agent to finally give him some long overdue answers to the mystery behind Raccoon City's plunge from small metropolis to a veritable city of the dead, blinked in response, his cool blue eyes narrowing as he found himself remembering the sign just outside the city's entrance.

The words written on it had been 'WELCOME TO RACCOON CITY, HOME OF UMBRELLA.'

Other than commenting on the stupidity of a company naming itself after an umbrella, he had given the corporation no second thought. But the recording had mentioned the company, and Ada's sudden question brought the image of that sign back to his mind. Tony suddenly felt like a fool for not making the connection sooner.

With a shrug and wave of his hand, he replied, "Not until I blew into this freaky city earlier tonight. Never even knew about 'em till then."

That got a small smirk from the agent, with this one staying around as the two moved past several parked police cruisers. After a moment, Ada went on, laying it all out in a single statement. "They're a pharmaceutical company secretly making bioweapons. They've created a virus, that when exposed to people, turns them into indestructible monsters."

Tony was quiet for several moments, digesting her words while once more mentally kicking himself for not connecting the dots sooner. A massive pharmaceutical company supposedly making medicine in the heart of a metropolitan city, and it never once occurred to him that they could have made something that turned normal people into the living dead. It was practically straight out of the horror movies. Hell, the fact that a giant corporation was the one behind it was straight out of the movies, too!

"Guess that explains things... Not very original if the best they can come up with are zombies, though," he responded, his words cool and calm to contrast with his rising anger at the callous disregard Umbrella clearly had when it came to keeping their shit from spilling in their own backyard, costing tens of thousands of innocent lives.

"My mission is to take down Umbrella's entire operation. And that's why I'm looking for Annette Birkin."

As Ada spoke on, she and Tony were halfway to the lowered parking gate, the bright lights of the idling car just outside it still burning brightly. The merc glanced at her when she dropped the name of her target, parroting, "Annette Birkin?"

That had been the name of the woman speaker on the recorder; the one Ben had been trying to question about the G-Virus. His new companion nodded, crossing her arms as they stopped in front of the gate, her hidden eyes meeting Tony's blue ones as she began to elaborate further.

"She's the one at Umbrella responsible for unleashing the t-Virus," she explained, her words cool as ice, but the man in red could just hear a slight tinge of anger directed at the mention of this Annette woman.

Frankly, he couldn't blame her, finding himself suddenly glad he had a name to put the blame on Raccoon City's tragedy. The name of the virus caught him off guard as well, not expecting something as simple sounding as 't' to be associated with ravenous undead humans and animals, or those skinless, long-tongued eyeless beasts lurking in the dark.

That still left the question of what exactly the purpose of this 'G-Virus' was, he thought to himself. If t made men into zombies, then what exactly was the G capable of?

"I'm going to bring her down," she finished, her words as strong and sure as steel.

The man found his earlier annoyance at her aloofness towards him fading, replaced with a begrudging, growing respect. It took some heavy cojones to walk into a situation like the one Raccoon City had become alone, but to do it to bring down the bastards responsible for the whole mess, and in the heart of their own territory? That got him grinning and looking at the federal officer in a newfound light as they arrived at the gate.

The agent stood in front of it, waiting patiently as he moved for the parking pass slot machine, the white-haired youth speaking again as he did so. "How do you know she's still alive? Or where to even find her?"

As he plucked the parking pass out of one of his coat's many pockets, Ada replied, "The sewers. According to HQ, Umbrella's offices in the city are a front. Their real work - the experiments on their viruses - is conducted in a top-secret lab built directly under Raccoon City. Knowing Annette, she's scurrying down there, finishing up whatever preparations she has left before escaping like the rat she is."

Scoffing, Tony stuck the card into the slot of the gate's machine while dryly commenting, "Fitting."

As the machine emitted a loud *_Beep!_* of confirmation, the red light on it turning green, the woman nodded in response to his comment. "Well said."

Slipping the card back into his coat's pocket, he walked up to Ada, the agent standing her ground as the gate finished rising up, the swordsman next asking, "And lemme guess: despite the fact that Raccoon City officials should have been all over an illegal bio-tech lab being built under the heart of their city, they kept their mouths shut 'cause Umbrella decided to line their pockets. Am I right?"

"Welcome to corporate America," was all she had to say to that, confirming Redgrave's suspicions, and reaffirming his growing disgust at Umbrella, while finding his pity for Raccoon's governmental offices lessening.

A dark part of him hoped those sellouts had been eaten by the very victims of Umbrella's work, which would have been a fitting and just punishment for their willingness to turn a blind eye to the evils being performed in their city.

"That's why you were helping Ben out," he realized aloud. "You knew Irons was being paid by Umbrella to cover their ass, and you were hoping he could find you more evidence for your case."

The woman nodded, finally walking over the gate line, and out into the sloping driveway ascending out of the parking deck. She looked back at Tony after noticing he wasn't following her.

Cocking a fine dark brow, the federal agent asked, "You coming?"

Tony looked at her a moment before turning his pale icy eyes towards a doorway to his right down a small set of stairs. When he had first run into Ada down here, the door had been closed. Now it was open.

When he looked back to her, he shook his head, replying, "As fun as taking down big bad pharma sounds, I've got other priorities. My girl's still somewhere inside the station, and I'm not leaving until I find her. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to skip out on that crazy party for right now. But thanks for the invite."

Agent Ada smirked in response to his words, saying, "Shame. I could've used a helping hand. If you change your mind, there's an entrance to the sewer ahead, through a construction zone. It's a bit of a trip, but it's also a straight shot to Umbrella's lab... and the safest way to get out of the city."

Tony filed that last bit of info away for later, giving the woman a nod of thanks just as the parking gate began to descend back down. Just a few seconds before it closed completely, the F.B.I. agent moved a step closer, her smirk vanishing, her expression returning to the familiar neutral and controlled one he had become familiar with, though a sharp frown now accompanied it.

His eyes narrowed as she began to speak again, hushed and just a breath shy of rushed. "You need to find your girlfriend, and get out of here _fast._ Umbrella isn't sitting on their hands, hoping and waiting for this disaster to quietly solve itself. I think I know what got Ben. And if I'm right... Umbrella's sent a 'cleaner' to begin destroying any evidence that can link this disaster back to them. And Umbrella's definition of evidence... _includes_ 'survivors.'"

Those words sent a chill running down his spine, his heart suddenly beating just a tad bit faster than normal. Anxiety began to creep into him, heralding a growing fear for Claire's safety.

Ada began to back away a few steps, turning as she did, her last words to Tony sending a spike of cold terror right through his heart. "These 'zombies' are what happens to people _accidentally_ exposed to the t-Virus... Pray you don't run into what Umbrella can make when they infect them _on purpose._"

With that final, ominous warning uttered, she was gone, stepping past the idling cruiser, and back into the city streets.

The merc uttered a quick curse, and snapped his gaze back onto the opened door just ahead of him. With his gaze locked, he made a mad dash for it, his boots a black blur over the asphalt as he raced towards the door.

Claire had to have come through here, he convinced himself, shoving the fear for his girl's safety down as deep as he could. Tony had no idea where this new room would lead him, but wherever it did, he'd follow it, trace her steps, find her, and get both of them out of here before whatever it was that had gotten Ben had a chance to even find them.

Instead, he willed his growing anger at Umbrella back to the forefront, letting it fuel him as he raced down a long corridor, and came to a swift stop, his gaze snapping to his left, a pleased grin forming on his lips when he spotted an elevator door just up ahead: an identical model to the one they had used to descend under the station only a short time ago. This one was already called up, and that was the final confirmation for him that his girlfriend had taken it. Tony did a quick check of his mental map of the station, and he figured this elevator would probably take him back up to the East Wing.

The plan moving forward was simple: take the elevator up, find Claire, take the elevator back down, and then kiss the R.P.D. goodbye for good, along with all the monsters left in it.

Standing in front of the elevator, the mercenary smacked the recall button, impatiently waiting for the cart to descend back down, bouncing on his heels, feeling the comforting weight of his shotgun and Woozy resting across his back. He knew he could handle whatever it was Umbrella had sent that had gotten Ben, but he'd feel better once Claire was back by his side, where he could keep her safe.

Then, once he had gotten her out of this city and somewhere safe, he'd reconsider Ada's offer. Tony Redgrave was a free-agent. He would make that clear as many times as he had to, and he only ever took the jobs that met certain criteria of his... But this evil Umbrella had inflicted upon thousands of innocent people was not something he was just going to let go unpunished. The white-haired mercenary grinned savagely as the elevator completed its descent, its doors opening as he shoved the gate over them aside, and stepped inside.

"You bastards might make monsters... but I _hunt_ monsters," he murmured darkly.

Over his shoulder, the screaming skull embedded on Woozy's hilt suddenly issued a faint red spark of energy... and Tony's shadow shifted, flickering from the image of a man...

To something _devilish._

* * *

With a harsh yank and shove, Claire pulled the yellow lever connected to the water pipeline to the left. She had to pull the lever tightly, the ever-present rainwater still pouring from the opaque sky above making it especially slick. But her grip was firm, and while her shoulder was beginning to ache, she would be able to put out the raging fire still cooking away at the crashed copter on the helipad above. Turns out even a couple of hours sitting out in the open rain still wasn't enough to put that particular bonfire out, but thanks to what the college student was chalking up to 'divine intervention,' the chopper had crashed under a large drainage pipeline. And while it had initially been set to dump the excess water it had gathered so far to the right split pipe, the lever she had just pulled would set it to instead drop all of that water on top of the burning helicopter, putting the fire out, and finally allowing her to safely travel around it, and head back into the police station.

She didn't even bother to give another glance at the boarded-off utility shed to her right, the only door nailed shut, but shaking furiously, hungry snarls issuing behind it. Claire passed the body of an undead in dark overalls, most of its skull and brain matter splattered across the ground, the blood running off with the rain, and she ignored an equally deceased-for-good female ghoul by the set of steps leading back up to the helipad, which she began to ascend two at a time.

The whole while, her lovely face was set in a deep look of worry and ever-growing anxiety, her lips pursed in a tight, thin line as the little voice in the back of her head reminded her that the clock was ticking away.

_I'm more than half-way done. Just hold on a little longer, Sherry..._

Unbidden, her mind began to drift back to her earlier exploration of the corrupt police chief's office... and the conversation they had over his phone.

* * *

**"_Good to see you again, Claire. We've got unfinished business."_**

_The young woman felt her ever-growing disgust and anger at the sound of Irons' voice, smooth as a snake-oil salesman she vaguely remembered the now-very apt description of the fat bastard Chris had once given her of the man, issued from the phone receiver. Fighting down the urge to throw the offending handset aside, Claire kept it pressed to her ear, and eased her rage down. As loathe as she was to admit it, Irons still had Sherry, which meant he was firmly in control of the situation._

**_For the moment._**

_Swallowing to wet her suddenly dry mouth, she replied, "What're you talking about?"_

**"**_**Don't waste my fucking time!"** he snapped back, the harsh reprisal making her flinch involuntarily, the man's volatile temper still as mercurial as ever. Before she could say anything else, the crooked cop went on, his tone impatient, but just barely restrained as he issued a single demand that froze the girl's anger over into fear instantaneously. **"Bring me the pendant, or Sherry dies."**_

_Claire's free hand drifted to her hip pouch, procuring said golden locket and necklace, which she briefly glanced over before returning her focus to the phone, and the clearly unstable madman on the other line._

"_The pendant? What do you need it for?"_

_Just holding the small charm and staring at it briefly, the college student couldn't see anything significant about it. There were strange engravings on its front and back, along with Sherry's name on the back, but aside from that, it looked like any other run-of-the-mill piece of jewelry. She'd wager her own simpler silver wing charm with an emerald embedded it - a gift from Tony for their six-month anniversary - or Tony's own gaudy ruby and silver encrusted necklace had more value than Sherry's lost locket. So why, then, did Irons want it?_

**"**_**Do you want the girl to die?"** he snapped, his voice still as impatient and annoyed as ever, but it was answer enough for her._

_One piece of jewelry for a child's life? There was no debate._

_Swallowing her pride, Claire stuffed the necklace back into her hip pouch before responding harshly, "Fine. Where are you?"_

**"_The orphanage."_**

_The young woman blinked, once more caught off guard by the man's terse but simple response._

"_The orphanage...?" she parroted, before quickly adding, "Where's that?"_

**"_In the neighborhood. You'll find it."_**

_God, Chris had been right. This asshole just **loved** being as difficult and impossible as he could be. Feeling her anger returning, Claire wasn't going to just let control this conversation entirely._

"_Is Sherry alright?" she demanded, keeping her voice leveled._

_If that fat bastard thought that she was going to go anywhere without getting proof that the child was still alive, he had another thing coming. The pendant may have looked like common jewelry, but if Irons wanted it, that meant that as long as she had it, he didn't have complete control of the situation._

_A pause came over the line, then the corrupt cop finally replied, his voice strangely calm. _**_"...For now."_**

_The threat was obvious, and Claire couldn't keep her anger back any longer._

"_I swear, you bastard, if you hurt her-"_

_The soft ***click*** from the other end of the line ended the conversation, and chilled her fury over._

_Muttering a harsh whisper of "**Fuck!**" Claire tossed the phone handset back onto its cradle. She had no idea if the girl actually was still alive, or if Irons was forcing her directly into his hands. Regardless, she had no choice. Sherry's life was on the line, and that had to take precedence over the obvious concerns of walking into what was obviously a trap._

_The woman looked back over Irons' office. She'd worry about that later. For now, she still had to find a way out of the station. She glanced over her shoulder, looking back at the open passage she had come through to arrive in Irons' office._

_Tony was still somewhere in the basement of the station, no doubt looking for her, none the wiser to the events that had occurred in his absence. As much as she wanted to try and find him, Sherry had to come first._

"_I'm sorry, Tony..." she whispered._

_Steeling herself, Claire stepped away from Irons' desk. There had to be an extra parking pass somewhere in his office..._

* * *

Finding another parking pass had been the easy part. Of the two doors in the crook's office, the one leading out had been locked, engraved with a pink heart emblem, while the other had been unlocked, leading into a short hallway where a stuffed tiger had given her a fright. At the end of the hallway was another door, leading into a small private storage presumably for the police chief's personal items.

It had been mostly packed with more gaudy art, and a stuffed dodo, of all things, but Claire had found a parking pass... hanging off a desk, locked behind a solid iron gate. Initially, she had been despondent and furious, until she noticed an open electronic grid panel by the door handle, the grid missing two pieces required to finish the circuit, and hopefully unlock the door. The woman had torn the storage room apart, vainly hoping to find the missing pieces.

No such luck, but she had found a delivery invoice for the installation of the electronic gate in the storage room, which, much to Claire's disbelief, listed exactly where she could find the two extra panels she would need to open the door. One was being stored in a closet space just a floor above Irons' own office, while the other was being kept in the station's clock tower. Both on the third floor, just over her head.

Annoying, but easily within reach... Or so she thought.

Among the effects in Irons' storage room, the college student found a relief showing two lovers with a pink gem heart hanging over them. A closer inspection revealed a hidden key behind it, another of the set of unique keys for the marked doors, this one a red heart to go with the green spade and pink diamond keys she had already found. With it in hand, she was able to leave Irons' office, and make a mad dash up the nearby stairs into the third floor above.

She had found the East Wing Storage Room easily enough, and after dispatching two undead officers, found the small storage room mentioned in the invoice, which, coincidentally, also required the Heart Key she had found. Inside the storage had been more unlabeled boxes, a few dusty mannequins, and a small orange package with the first panel piece she needed inside.

All in all, it had taken her fifteen minutes, tops, the get the first piece.

Unfortunately, her good luck had seemingly run out right then and there...

There had been no other door inside the East Storage Area, which meant Claire had to find a way back into the main part of the police station, and search for another means to get to the part of the third floor where she could access the Clock Tower. Easier said than done, she discovered. The hallway leading back to the second floor of the East Wing was blocked off by a lowered shutter, and the doors in the base level below had been nailed off, leaving her trapped.

Mounting frustration and increasing worry for Sherry's safety almost made her try to tear down the boards herself, but she had recalled another door opposite the East Storage Room's door. A quick check found herself back outside in the rain, now on the station's helipad, the burning remains of the helicopter that had crashed hours ago below her. Directly to its right was another door back into the East Wing, where she could head through to get back into the station. The only obstacle now was a burning pile of metal, but the solution to that problem had been simpler, just requiring a little elbow grease - and a few bullets - to set the water drainage over the burning wreck.

As Claire arrived back at the top of the helipad, jogging briskly towards the lever that controlled the drainage pipe, her mind noted the ticking time, and how it had taken her almost half-an-hour just to get back in the station. And she still had no idea how she was going to find a way to the Clock Tower itself.

_One thing at time. Handle the problem in front of you before moving onto the next..._ she told herself as she arrived in front of the large red lever that controlled the drainage pipe.

Just as she was reaching out to grasp it, a voice called out from above her, freezing her in place. "_There you are!_"

Whirling around and snapping her head up, the redhead's grey-blue eyes widened in disbelief as they met a familiar set of icy blue orbs, the flames from the wrecked helicopter behind her perfectly illuminating their owner's cocky grin while giving his snowy locks a golden flair. With a jump and twist in midair, Tony Redgrave gracefully leapt from the small patio above to land with a heavy smack and soft splash of puddling rainwater, the taller man initially crouched before rising back to his full height as he continued grinning at the flabbergasted young woman.

Approaching her, he broke the brief silence by speaking first. "I was lookin' all over for you! Didn't I tell you guys to wait for me while I was dealing with that weirdo with the eyeball? What are you doing back out... Hey, where's the kid?"

Tony's jovial words stopped in their tracks, his smile disappearing as he realized he and his girlfriend were the only ones on the helipad. The man in red's gaze darted around, seemingly searching for the missing child. Claire struggled to find the words to even begin trying to explain all that had happened in his absence when his gloved hand suddenly reached out to gently grasp her cheek, his bare thumb brushing over her bruised lip, making her wince. His eyes locked with hers, and the sudden intensity in them chilled her to the bone, somehow feeling colder than the rainwater covering her.

Gone was the usual cocky mirth in his face, completely overshadowed by a rising fury as he quickly realized something had gone very wrong in his brief absence.

"...Who did this? _Who_ put their hands on you?"

His voice was low and deadly, underlined with a tone she had never heard from him before, and that only added to her growing anxiety.

Blinking, Claire's mind raced frantically. Her worry for Sherry, her frustrations with the absurd lengths she had gone through to find a way to save her, and her earlier anger and humiliation from how Irons had easily caught her off guard, and absconded with the terrified child were all coming to front and overwhelming her, leaving her unable to say anything-

-when Tony's other hand grasped her opposite cheek, his touch firm but gentle as he breathed, "Hey... Look at me."

Her eyes met his again, and that brief flash of icy rage she had seen was gone, genuine concern replacing it as he peered back at her, still holding her face. That was when she realized just how warm his hands were.

"Take a deep breath, alright? Catch yourself... Then, when you're ready... tell me what happened while I was gone. Okay?"

His words were as gentle as his touch, and almost instantly soothed over her battling emotions. Closing her eyes, she nodded, her own hands coming to grip his wrists, though she didn't pull him away.

Inhaling deeply, urging herself to get back in control, she opened her eyes to meet Tony's again before finally speaking. "While you were still fighting that... whatever it was, me and the girl - Sherry - found the ladder to the parking deck. We headed for the gate... and then the police chief, Irons, showed up. He got the drop on me, and had us at gunpoint, made Sherry tie me up, and threatened me to make her go with him. He had a parking pass, and dragged her off. By the time I was able to free my hands, the gate was back down, and he was gone."

The words flowed out of her, not quite in a rush, but just saying them brought a strange mix of relief and another flare of self-anger at her foolishness for letting that fat bastard take that poor girl from her. Tony was silent as she spoke, his expression completely neutral, save for the occasional flicker of fury in his eyes as he listened to her recounting of Irons' actions.

With a sigh, he let his hands fall away from her face, using his right to run his fingers through his white locks while murmuring, "Dammit, this is all my fault. I never should have made you two leave. I should have just told you to wait where you were...!"

Claire stared at her boyfriend in a kind of stunned awe for a moment, unable to believe he was blaming himself for just trying to get them to go somewhere safer, though such a place hardly seemed to exist anymore in Raccoon.

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, no, Tony, it's not! It's my fault this happened, not yours. I let my guard down, and he got the drop on me."

Tony let his hand fall away, giving her a contemplative look before shrugging. "We can play the blame game later. Right now, there's a little girl who needs our help. You have any idea where he could've gone?"

Claire nodded, divulging what she knew while her right hand dug around her hip pouch. "I was looking for a parking pass to follow him, when I found the way to his office. He called me from another phone to his own, and he said he wanted this."

The girl pulled out Sherry's locket, handing the gold charm to Tony, who gave the item a look over, his brow furrowing as he looked back at her to say, "This pendant? How come?"

She shrugged helplessly while saying, "I have no idea. He said he would kill Sherry if I didn't bring it to him, though."

The man's harsh glare returned as he gave the pendant back to her. "Yeah, that ain't happenin'. We're getting Sherry back, and then I'm gonna have a friendly chat with Irons about how to properly treat women and children."

Claire shoved Sherry's necklace back into her hip pouch while replying, "Honestly, Tony, it's not worth it. Let's just give him the pendant, take Sherry back, and then get out of this nightmare."

His eyes narrowed as he crossed his arms and snapped, "Give him what he wants, then _leave?!_ Sorry, but that just ain't my style, babe. He put his hands on you, _and_ kidnapped that little girl. Payback may not be something you believe in, but I do."

Sighing, suddenly feeling very drained and tired, Redfield rubbed her forehead before replying, "_Fine,_ do you whatever you want... Just help me get Sherry away from him first."

Redgrave nodded, his grin returning, though not his usual arrogant smirk, this one more like a feral snarl. Claire found herself shivering suddenly, and turned back towards the red lever.

Her sudden movements caught his attention, and he asked, "Hey, what're you doing out here, anyway? I thought you said you were looking for a parking pass?"

"I am. Or rather, I did find one. But it's behind a heavily-locked gate, and I need to get back into the station to find the other part I need to unlock it."

As she was saying this, she gripped the lever, but found this one stuck in place a lot more firmly than the first. Just as she was about to grab the lever with her other hand, her boyfriend's hand appeared, grabbing the end of the lever, and, with seemingly no effort on his part, easily pulled it down. Rusty hinges issued a soft metallic squeal as the pipe opening shifted, and a torrent of gathered rainwater plunged down on the burning helicopter wreckage.

The effect was almost instantaneous, the burning flames sputtering out, hot steam misting through the damp air. The temperature began to drop as the helicopter was put out, the metal husk left over blackened and crumpled, with only a few dying embers left around it. Then they were gone.

Stepping back, the man in red observed the steaming wreck, before turning back to his girlfriend again. "Where's this part you needed, again?"

Claire started for the door as she responded. "On the third floor, somewhere in the station's Clock Tower. Come on, I'm not sure how long it'll take to find it-"

"_Or!..._" he called from behind her, prompting the woman to glance over her shoulder... and stop in her tracks, eyes widening when she saw the grinning youth dangling a familiar plastic card from the lanyard it was attached to, his pleased grin reminding her of a cat with a canary caught in its jaws. "We can just use the one I found, and skedaddle on outta this dump."

Blinking, feeling her jaw wanting to drop as the man once again seemed to conjure from thin air exactly what they needed to finally escape the madhouse of death the police station had become, Claire walked back towards Tony, who continued talking while casually twirling the parking pass lanyard around with his index finger.

"No offense to your plan, but it sounded pretty roundabout and time-consuming. At least now we'll be saving ourselves some precious time... C'mon. Let's head back to the chief's office, and-"

As he was saying this, the young woman was about to point out that the emergency ladder that could have taken them back up to the East Storage Area was broken, when her boyfriend spun around, still spinning the lanyard-

And then she saw the long sword with a skull carved over the hilt, which resembled a human ribcage, while two spikes were jutting out above the eye holes of the skull. Claire stared at the blade, feeling a familiar unease and trepidation suddenly clutching at her heart. The sword was easily as long as Tony was tall, dwarfing even the Remington shotgun strapped to his back right next to it. Where in the world had he found something like that? And why was he carrying it?

A hushed voice whispered from the back of her mind. The same one she had heard less than an hour ago...

_It's painfully obvious that you don't know a single thing about him. Or rather... the **real** him... What if I told you he is not who you think he is... or even who **he** thinks is?..._ _What if I told you there is no man named Anthony Redgrave?..._

A sudden exclamation of, "_Aw, dammit!_" snapped her out of her reverie, the hushed whispering from that bandaged man fading away. Her eyes looked away from the strange sword with the skull hilt, glancing up at the back of Tony's head as the flustered youth scratched through his silvery locks while murmuring, "The ladder's busted... That's what I get for leaping before looking."

Turning back to face his girlfriend, the mercenary kept speaking as he did, "Welp, guess we're gonna have to cut through the station anyway." When he faced her again, he noticed the perturbed look on her face. Frowning, he asked, "What's wrong now?"

"...Where did you get that?" she asked quietly after a moment's pause, her eyes peering just over his shoulder to stare at the sword's hilt, noting the spiked pommel at the bottom of the blade.

The crimson-coated man blinked his eyes as he started to turn to follow her line of sight, when he seemed to realize what she was asking about. Giving her his familiar smirk, Tony reached over his shoulder to grasp the hilt, and unsheathed the blade from his back. Claire flinched a step back when she saw him holding the sword up, once again displaying his uncanny strength as he gave the weapon a look over.

"Oh, _this?_ Found it laying around. Thought it looked cool, so I snatched it. Bullets aren't gonna last forever, after all. Figured it might be fun to give this a few swings through some undead necks."

Claire stared at the sword for another moment before looking back at Tony, repeating, "_...Found it?_"

He merely shrugged, slipping the long sword back over his shoulder as he spoke again. "Hey, you're the one who said this place was once a museum. Maybe this was an art piece? For all I know, it'll fall apart after hitting something..." He paused, his icy eyes flickering as he grinned slyly. "...But I doubt it. Come on, let's get outta this rain."

With that, the conversation seemed over. Claire let Tony walk past her, her gaze lingering on the sword across his back, her eyes meeting the dark holes of the skull with the two small horns on its temples, the skull looking back at her... menacingly.

His words had seemed convincing. The station _was_ a renovated museum, and there were plenty pieces of art left all over. Still... that man in black's words whispered darkly in the back of her mind, filling her with doubt...

_You truly know nothing about him... As I suspected..._

"Babe?"

Tony's voice brought her back to reality, and she spun around, seeing him by the door, looking at her with a worried frown on his face.

"Hey, you sure you're okay? You're being pretty quiet... Did anything else happen while I was gone?"

His words brought other images to her mind. Of ominous black lines of darkness, and the two skinless monsters exploding into chunks of flesh and blood, the mysterious swordsman calling himself Gilver having killed them in a way she knew she hadn't really seen. And despite all the terrors she had seen so far in Raccoon City, that man's cold eyes were something she didn't want to ever see again.

Shoving those thoughts aside, she gave her companion the best reassuring smile she could. "No, I... I'm fine... It's just been a long night."

As she walked towards her boyfriend, he opened the door for them while murmuring an agreeing, "You got that right. Let's go save Sherry, and then it's adios to this shithole."

The two stepped into the musty and damp corridor, the tired young woman pulling out her flashlight, and flickering it on as Tony took the lead, the college girl on his heels. A quick turn took them to the smashed hallway where the tail end of the helicopter was sticking through the two ruined walls the bird had crashed through, though somehow, the ceiling above it was still intact, keeping the rain out. The air was still somewhat warm, though it seemed most of the smoke had already cleared up, more than probably having slipped out through the ruined walls.

Claire was about to move forward, seeing she and Tony would have to duck under the tail of the copter to move ahead, when he suddenly snatched her shoulder, stopping her. Looking back, she saw his eyes had narrowed and were staring ahead, past the wreck and the shadowed hall behind it.

Frowning, she asked, "What is it?"

He continued staring ahead while whispering, "Do you hear that?"

She blinked, confused, unable to hear anything-

-when she did.

Rhythmic, loud *_thumps,_* like pounding footsteps...

Of something very large, approaching _very fast._

In the shadows behind the copter, something shifted. Tony pushed Claire back behind him, his other hand drawing his Colt out in a flourish of his red coat, his icy eyes locked behind the helicopter. The college student's own eyes watched in bated breath as a soft *_crunch_* suddenly issued. The woman knew the sound almost instantly, having heard similar sounds before.

It was the sound of metal crunching as something very strong squeezed down on it.

The helicopter tail end was suddenly thrust up, the long tail striking the ceiling and causing dust, brick, and plaster to come crashing down with a harsh cracking sound. As the copter's end was forced up, both Claire and Tony saw what was behind it, and what had so easily hoisted the metal vehicle up with seemingly no effort.

Well, not _what..._

Rather _who._

It was a man, or at least something that so much as resembled a man. A huge man, like the tallest basketball player Claire could imagine, but with the proportionate bulk of a heavy body builder. The man's massive body was covered almost entirely in a heavy and thick black coat, a long black belt wrapped tightly around his waist, huge black boots strapped to his feet, while similar-looking gloves and black belts covered his hands and bound his arms. The man's left hand was supporting the wrecked helicopter's tail while his right hung by his side, the gloved fingers clenched into a tight fist, and the faint light issuing through the broken wall illuminated a strange metallic brand across the back of the palm.

A silvery 'X.'

The man's head, covered by a matching black fedora, moved slightly, and Claire saw two dark, burning red dots flash under the shadow of the hat's brim. The man's left hand suddenly shoved the copter's tail up and aside, sending it crashing through the ceiling, and splashing onto the helipad outside, letting more bricks and dust plummet down, joined by the rain now free to fall inside.

In the back of her mind, the young woman recalled a time when her brother had once been trying to explain the differences between flying helicopters and fighter jets from his time in the Air Force, and how pilots had to take the weight of their machines into count. Chris had explained that even the smallest of rescue copters weighed roughly two tons, not counting the additional weight of their passengers. With that, her horrified mind concluded that no normal man should have been able to lift that wreckage with the ease this one just hand.

More faint light from outside illuminated the hallway, and Claire could now easily the man's face.

She understood her thinking had been wrong almost instantly. That this wasn't a man at all, only something pretending to be.

His skin was a deep gray, like that of a long rotten corpse, the flesh lined with hideous, burn-like scars not unlike melted wax. She could also see his eyes much more clearly. She wished she couldn't.

They were burning black pits, like smoking craters, the irises a deep magma red. And they were locked on both her and Tony.

Then, without a single word, it began to advance on them, his heavy feet stomping down with enough force to shake the entire hallway.

All at once, Claire knew she was never going to rescue Sherry, or ever see her brother Chris again.

Because she and Tony were about to die.

* * *

(Holds up phone, presses play.)

_**First we gonna ROCK, Then we gonna ROLL**_

_**Then we let it POP, GO LET IT GO**_

_**X gon give it to ya**_

_**He gon give it to ya**_

_**X gon give it to ya**_

_**He gon give it to ya**_

Alright now that _that_ obligatory reference is out of the way, first things first: I am back, I am sorry y'all had to wait, like, three months for an update when I had been rolling out chapters on a monthly basis. I had some irl stuff happen, one thing after another, that left me drained, but recently, my motivation came back, and I was finally able to finish this chapter. A big thank you to my beta, Da-Awesom-One, for his patience and his continued willingness to put up with me.

So, to my readers (if there are any left), I hope you enjoyed this chapter.

And here's a small little teaser for the next one, not much, just the title, but I had this planned out for a while now.

**Chapter Seven: Death on Two Legs**

Appropriate, right?


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Death On Two Legs

* * *

As soon as Tony heard the familiar heavy stomps, and watched alongside Claire as the massive coated figure shoved the tail end of the crashed helicopter aside like it didn't weigh over a thousand pounds, the man in red instantly knew: _this_ was Ben's killer. His icy eyes flickered, looking down towards the clenched fist at its side, spotting the familiar dark glove with the metal crisscrossing over the back of the palm - vaguely reminding him of the letter 'X' - before shooting up, meeting the fiery molten gaze of the creature's barely visible eyes.

The tall, imposing dreadnought shoved the grounded aircraft completely aside, sending it skidding over the wet helipad in a trail of sudden sparks and screeching metal. Never letting its gaze waver, the cloaked giant resumed its heavy stride, the heavy footsteps issuing loud *_booms*_ with each stomp, the distance between itself and the couple across from it closing swiftly.

Mimicking its motions and taking two steps forward as it did, Tony's arms moved so fast they were crimson blurs, the Remington over his shoulder and in his hands in the fraction of a second it took to blink.

Pumping the gauge to wrack a fresh shell, the gunslinger pulled the trigger, the thunderous blast only slightly louder than the striding behemoth's stomps. The crack of buckshot struck the wide chest of the creature's buttoned coat front head-on, the massive form having literally walked directly into the oncoming shot, which could shred open a man of similar size's abdomen in a spray of blood, flesh, and metal, the force of the shot's impact from such proximity more than enough to send them flying off their feet. The small pellets simply struck the front of the dark coat, turning it darker from the singe of the burst, and rolled off, hitting the floor, and getting crushed by the juggernaut's next step, the creature and its coat completely unharmed.

Eyes widening, the bewildered gunman uttered a single word in a sharp exclamation.

"_RUN!_"

Behind him, Claire took a shaking step backwards and to her right, practically collapsing against the door they had just come through, pushing it ajar. But the cloaked giant was already closing the shrinking gap between itself and the two much-smaller youths. Just as she managed to get a single foot over the door's threshold, the figure's right arm was rearing back, one massive gloved hand closing into a tight fist the size of a person's head, swinging out hard enough to make the air whistle-

-and Tony ducked and dashed under the heavy punch, colliding with the girl, and sending them both tumbling out onto the rain-soaked asphalt.

Recovering and pulling himself up as his left hand snatched his girlfriend's upper arm to hoist her back to her feet, simultaneously shoving her away, he sharply ordered, "_Go! Find cover!_"

As much as the red-clad mercenary wanted to make sure the clearly-terrified collegiate girl could get somewhere further away from this unstoppable goliath, the unfortunate truth was that the dark-coated colossus had already followed them outside, ducking under the smaller door frame before rising back up to its full height. Its dark eyes found his icy orbs once more as the pale-haired gunman backed away, pumping another fresh shell into the shotgun before raising the rifle higher, and squeezing the trigger, this time hoping the close-range buckshot would shred its ugly face apart.

At the exact same second Tony's finger pulled down on the trigger, the giant's gloved hand shot out, its enormous palm absorbing almost the entire blast, the thunderous shot muffled by its fingers and palm as it snatched for the gun. The mercenary in red yanked the firing arm out of its reach, skidding back across the helipad, and ducking behind the wrecked copter's tail as he slung the weapon back over his shoulder, his mind racing as he weighed his options. What few he had.

_The Remington didn't even faze him. His coat's gotta be made out of some reinforced Kevlar. That's the only thing that could stop two twelve-gauge shots. But this guy didn't even flinch from those blasts, and they were basically at point-blank range!_ his mind raged as his hands whipped out the Colt and Beretta from under his coat. They packed less of a punch than the shotgun, but he could squeeze off more rounds with them. And the only part of the freak _not_ covered by that coat was its face.

"A few rounds to the face oughta do wonders for your ugly mug!" he hissed under his breath before thrusting his arms out, arms criss-crossing over each other as he fired both handguns rapidly, the semi-auto fire spitting out almost as fast as a machine gun.

The barrage of *_pop-pops_* accompanied the drops of ejected, stainless steel casings, each bullet aiming for the creature's warped face. It actually stopped before thrusting the crook of its left arm over its head, the heavier .45 rounds ricocheting off the material covering its arm, while the hollow-points from the Beretta simply flattened on contact and fell away, soft *_pings_* issuing with each shot.

Under his breath, Tony cursed. _**Greeeaaat,** it's as smart as it is ugly..._

Whatever that coat was made out of, none of his weapons seemed able to penetrate it. And while he hadn't tried the Desert Eagle yet, the young man was willing to bet it wouldn't be anymore effective if this monster could ignore two shotgun blasts at point-blank range. The Colt and Beretta clicked dry, none of the shots having found their mark. And as the towering golem lowered its arm away from its face, Redgrave back-peddled away from it. The more distance between himself and its fists, the better, he thought. The snowy-haired youth shoved his handguns back into their holsters, his left arm falling to his side while his right reached for the hilt of his broadsword.

Where guns failed him, Woozy _always_ seemed to succeed. And while he knew the blade wasn't forged from average steel, he had to have faith it could cut through whatever that material the giant was wrapped in was made out of. The creature's burning eyes stayed on him for a second, following his every step and the motion of his arm moving, before its gaze flickered towards the crumpled tail of the ruined copter sprawled across the heliport. It then extended its right gloved hand out, grasping the bent end of the tail hard enough to crush the metal into a thin line.

Claire, who had been watching on the sidelines near the stairs leading down into the alleyway below the helipad, widened her eyes as soon as she saw the coated fiend clutch the end of the downed helicopter, understanding flashing through her panic-filled, grey-blue eyes in an instant.

"_TONY, LOOK OUT!_"

The mercenary in red's head snapped up at the sound of the woman's panicked scream, just in time to watch the giant drag the crashed bird by its tail, metal screeching and sparks flying as the wrecked chopper was flung at him like a two-ton softball.

Icy eyes widening, Tony hissed, "_Shit!_" before quickly diving to the side, tucking his body into a ball to roll across the rain-soaked asphalt, narrowly dodging the oncoming copter by the tail of his coat. The impromptu projectile slammed into the broken section of the wall it had crashed through, this time longways, coming to a harsh halt in a splash of rainwater and crumble of bricks.

The swordsman came to a stop at a crouch, his right hand shooting over his shoulder for the hilt of his weapon when his gaze snapped forward at the sound of pounding boot stomps, two tree-trunk thick legs appearing in front of him. The young man's head shot up, eyes widening a second time as he saw the cloaked freak raising both its arms over its head, hands clenched together. The mercenary back-flipped and hand-sprung away just as the towering beast swung its hands down, its fists smashing the asphalt and cement where he had been crouching a second prior, leaving a crater almost as wide as its torso. Meanwhile, the swordmaster landed back on his feet, Woozy drawn out, and leveled in front of himself, before charging out in a red blur as he thrust the weapon out in a sudden Stinger, aiming for the creature's stomach, hoping to run the beast through in a single stroke.

Just as his greatsword's barbed tip was about to connect with the front of its coat, one of the giant's massive gloved hands slapped out, striking the blade hard enough to make the metal reverberate, a sharp ringing sound issuing out, and deflecting the blow entirely. The strength of the blow nearly sent the weapon flying out of Tony's hand, the man's grip managing to hold as his arm was nearly torn from its socket, struggling to maintain his grasp as the broadsword was struck back-

-leaving the youth himself completely exposed for the monster's follow up. Its massive fist buried itself into his gut, with a sickening *_CRUNCH_* issuing out. His mouth dropped open, a gout of blood flying out before he was launched off his feet, and came back down a second later, crashing on top of a nearby bench, shattering it into chunks of wood and metal. The platinum-haired mercenary struggled to push himself back up, swallowing back a scream of pain as he felt several shattered ribs grinding agonizingly over his chest.

The towering juggernaut observed the struggling man for a moment before resuming its heavy stride towards him, fists tightening at its side when a voice screamed from behind it.

"_HEY!_"

Accompanying the voice was several loud shots, each bullet striking it across the back, only to flatten on contact with its coat, and falling away uselessly. The noise made the behemoth pause, glancing over its shoulder towards the origin of the gunfire.

Standing a good twenty feet away from the giant was Claire Redfield, her small revolver drawn and smoking, her expression one of frightened fury after having watched it literally swat Tony aside with barely any effort. And while she was utterly terrified of what it could do to her, she wasn't about to stand idly by and let her boyfriend die.

The imposing figure observed her silently, before beginning to stalk towards her at a slower pace compared to its earlier charge towards her partner. Backing up whilst shoving her pistol back into its holster, the young woman grabbed the sub-machine gun hanging by her left hip and drew it out, her finger squeezing down on the trigger. Dozens of *_tatatatatas_* began issuing from the long barrel, the machine pistol threatening to go flying from the girl's tenuous grip. The multitude of machine gun bullets slammed into the giant's coated chest, the smaller rounds bouncing off as uselessly as everything else the duo had already thrown at it.

Panicking, the younger Redfield backed up, still firing, her mind racing, grasping at anything when it suddenly hit her that neither she nor Tony had managed to land a shot on its face yet. The crimson-coated man's earlier handgun fire had been blocked by the dreadnought's arm, but Claire was willing to bet that the machine gun's rate of fire could hit it before it had a chance to try and block the shots. Struggling to maintain her grip on the Mac-10, the crack shot angled the weapon higher, the bullets striking the coat ricocheting away before a few finally hitting its face, small holes appearing on its neck and cheek, thin lines of dark ichor pouring out of the holes along with small puffs of smoke.

Claire felt what seemed like a surge of hope welling in her chest when the steady *_tatata_* of the machine gun suddenly silenced with a dry *_click._* Eyes widening, the woman looked from the gun back up towards the still-approaching brute... and felt her earlier hope fade away as the small holes closed, what little damage, if any, she had inflicted gone entirely. Not even thinking to reload, all the shaking, panicking young student could think to do was back away from her approaching death.

Across the helipad, Tony was pushing himself back onto his hands and knees, hacking blood, and flinching as he felt his ribs snap back into place. His pain momentarily blossomed into almost unbearable agony before it subsided into a more manageable dull throb. Using Woozy to prop himself back onto his feet, the battered mercenary gasped and huffed for breath, thin lines of blood running down his jaw as he turned to look over his shoulder for that freak in black that had thrown him like a ragdoll-

The bruised-up youth's eyes flared when he spotted the giant stalking towards Claire, looming over her as she backed away in obvious terror. Screaming out in fury, he charged for the monster, his broadsword dragging low behind him, trailing sparks in its wake. The enraged swordsman reached the imposing creature in seconds, swinging his sword up as he cleared the distance in a heartbeat.

The blade cut into the beast's back, finally managing to pierce through the bulletproof coat it was wrapped in. The colossus stumbled, dark blood splashing onto the asphalt before it whirled around, its burning eyes flashing like hellfire as it backhanded Tony across his handsome face, sending the man soaring through the air a second time. The stubborn boy crashed into the wall by the door, the bricks on it smashing into rubble and dust as he collapsed onto the ground with a heavy *_thump_* and a splash.

The towering behemoth steadied itself before hearing sudden rapid steps from behind it. The creature craned its head over its shoulder, and saw that the woman it had been approaching was gone. Hearing more steps behind it once again, it returned its gaze forward, seeing the pink-vested woman was crouched by the red-coated man, a long grey tube held in both hands, her furious grey-blue eyes glaring defiantly back at the impassive monster as she squeezed the trigger of the grenade launcher Tony had given her hours ago.

A soft *_fwp_'* sound issued, air rushing as the projectile flew threw the air, and struck the giant dead center on its chest-

*_BOOM!_*

An explosion of fire erupted around the behemoth, consuming it in intense, bright orange and yellow flames that evaporated the still falling raindrops around the monster, issuing hissing steam through the cold air.

Claire whirled around as the blast erupted, slinging the launcher back over her shoulder, before grabbing her companion's right upper arm, pulling at the barely-conscious youth with all her strength, trying to drag him back onto his feet.

"Tony, we have to go! We have to run _now!_"

The girl's words came rushed out in a single breath, finally managing to raise her peer up a few inches as he joined her struggle, pushing himself back up onto shaky feet, the tip of his barbed sword dragging across the wet asphalt as he used it to brace himself. Blood was running down his jaw, his ice blue eyes narrowed in obvious pain as he groaned and hacked for breath.

As he stumbled back into a mostly upright position, the mercenary choked out, "_Not... running away... again...!_"

The young woman chanced a glance over her shoulder, her eyes unable to grow any wider when she saw the flames had fallen away... revealing that, aside from a few chars darkening a spot or two on its coat, the creature was completely unharmed from the grenade blast. Steam and smoke wafted around its shadowed face, obscuring its hideous features momentarily, but failing to hide the dark glow of its burning eyes. Almost casually, their pursuer simply brushed a spot of embers off its chest with its gloved fingers.

Rounding back to face her stubborn boyfriend, her heart pounding with terror-laced adrenaline, Claire looked from his strained expression to the open door back into the damaged hallway.

Looking back up at her boyfriend's bloodied face, the panicking young woman snapped, "If you try to fight this thing, you'll _die!_ We need to _go,_ Anthony! Sherry needs us! _I _need you!"

At that admission, Tony met her gaze briefly... before looking back at the coated behemoth with a contempt-filled glare.

Standing to his full height, the snowy-haired man slung his sword back over his shoulder, before snapping his eyes back to his girlfriend with a sigh. "Hate it when you call me by my first name... Go. I'll cover you, and then I'll be right behind you."

With an unsure nod, Claire sprinted through the door, her boots flying over the floor as she raced down the short corridor, hit a sharp turn, dashed over the rubble, and flew left. Behind her, Tony's hands flew under his coat, whipping out his Beretta and Colt, the handguns reloaded in the blink of an eye, and spitting lead before long. As before, the bullets simply crumpled on contact with the titan's coat, and it walked forward into the line of fire, massive feet stomping down hard enough to leave cracks, its fiery gaze locked on the gunman in red.

Spitting a curse, he shoved his guns back into their holsters, and made a long dash through the open doorway, repeating the motion twice more to arrive at the turn in the corridor junction. Rather than turn, he leapt at the wall, kick-jumping off of it to use the momentum to vault himself clear over the rumble littering the broken hallway, landing with a heavy *_thump,_* and kick up of dust. All the while, Tony heard wood crashing and shattering behind him, before even louder footfalls began issuing, the distance between himself and the creature closing fast.

As he raced down the hall, spotting a flash of pink rounding the right turn - confirming Claire was safely ahead of him - Redgrave felt fury bubbling in his aching gut, his broken and nearly shattered ribs healing, knitting his flesh, but not his pride.

The rational and sane portion of his mind reminded him that nothing he nor Claire had thrown at the monster had left more than a scratch on it, and the thing packed more strength than any of the other ghouls he had encountered so far. Even if he didn't have his girlfriend to worry about, there was no guarantee he would have found a way to really hurt it, much less kill it. The darker portion of himself, however - the side he often found riled up in the midst of a good fight, or a tense shoot-out - was screaming at him, roaring like a furious animal denied its kill, enraged over his constant hit-and-run tactics since arriving in Raccoon City.

It wanted _blood. _It wanted a _challenge._ And that hat-wearing freak offered one. A battle where death was the only outcome for man or monster.

Tony struggled to ignore that side of himself, sprinting down the long hallway just a few steps behind the young woman, who rushed around the final right turn-

-when the merc heard her let out a frustrated scream of "_Shit!_"

Rounding the corner after her, skidding to a halt on his slick boots, Tony saw the source of her anger. A solid steel shutter was lowered, blocking the only way to Irons' office, where the private elevator to the parking garage lay beyond. Claire spun around to face him, her mouth opening to say something, but the only thing the red-coated gunslinger could hear was the booming stomps of their pursuer behind them growing louder and closer by the second.

Moving past her, the frantic young man crouched down, his hands gripping the bottom of the shutter. With a harsh heave that sent flares of agony through his knitting chest, the mercenary shoved the shutter up to the half-way point, the loud sound of crumbling mortar and squealing, struggling metal rising over the increasing tempo of the behemoth's stomps behind them.

Claire watched Tony as he raised he shutter in a kind of stunned stupor, prompting the taller man to snap, "_Go!_"

Breaking out of her reverie, a small voice in the back of her head asked how Tony Redgrave had lifted a locked shutter gate up with the of strength a man who had probably received a broken rib or two from that monster's punches. Claire, however, ignored it for the time being, focusing instead on the rapidly-closing stomps not much further behind them. With a tuck and a roll, she scrambled under the shutter gate, her partner following after her with a quick duck, before slamming the solid sheet of steel back down, separating themselves from the advancing monster.

Tony backed away, raising one arm protectively in front of her as the only-partially muffled boot stomps arrived at the barrier and ceased.

For a moment, silence... save for heavy gasps of breath from the young couple...

Then a hideous, scraping *_SCREEECH_* issued from the shutter, as a gloved fist _burst through_ the sheet, a second hand joining it to begin peeling the ragged hole the first had formed into a much wider gap, the steel sheet crumpling away like paper. Claire watched in fascinated horror while Tony began pushing her back towards Irons' office door, his own eyes locked on the hands and growing hole with trepidation.

"That's not gonna hold...!" he hissed aloud, the collegiate girl internally agreeing as she and the taller man quickly turned around, and raced for the door to the police chief's office.

Claire shoved it open, scrambling inside. Tony was directly behind her, pushing her further in. As she dashed for the open passageway behind Irons' desk, the merc grabbed one of the display cases next to the doorway, and tipped it over, sending expensive pottery shattering onto the wooden floor. The wooden case offered another slight barrier for the creature. One that couldn't possibly slow it down like the shutter had, but maybe buy them the precious few seconds they'd need to escape it.

As he hurriedly raced after her, that small voice in the back of the young woman's mind once again asked how a supposedly badly-injured man could have accomplished such a feat after the one prior. And while she wanted to chalk it up to adrenaline, the small voice wasn't convinced. The biker girl didn't have long to dwell on her internal thoughts, as her red-coated beau quickly dashed towards her, snatching her by her elbow, and pulling her along.

The two were already well past Irons' desk and through the stone corridor when they heard wood shattering behind them.

Scrambling outside through the rain towards Irons' elevator, Claire frantically pressed the button, willing the gates to open faster when she felt the grenade launcher yanked off her shoulder with enough force to snap the belt used as a strap for it. As the elevator gate clanked open, Redfield whipped her head around to look over her shoulder, seeing Tony breaking the launcher's tube open, and shoving a fresh grenade in before taking aim. Just as she heard the familiar pounding footsteps, and spotted a heavy shadow looming in the open passageway.

Before she could shout a warning as the coated giant's massive form began to emerge, her boyfriend had fired the launcher. The round sang through the air-

-and struck the upper portion of the passage. The blast was as loud as the one before, but produced greater destruction. Burning brick and mortar fell atop the creature, forcing it to its knees as heavy stones rained down on it, its fedora falling away, and rolling across the wet ground. In moments, the dreadnought was buried in a heavy rumble of stone, kicking up wet dust and smoke.

With held breaths from both man and woman, they waited for a moment that stretched for eternity...

...No movement, save the falling rain and shifting pebbles rolling down the larger rubble...

Walking backwards, not taking his cool blue eyes off of the still stone pile, Tony ushered Claire back into the elevator cart, handing her back the grenade launcher after reloading it again. A quick mental count by the young woman told her they had two rounds for it left. The swordsman grabbed the gate, and slammed it closed, punching down the button.

"...Let's hope that holds it off long enough for us to find Sherry, and clear on outta here," he breathed out, still tensed and at the ready, keeping his glare on the immobilized giant.

Wordlessly, Claire nodded, finding herself also unable to tear her own eyes away from the pile of burning rock and mortar until the elevator cart had descended entirely.

Tony was right, though. Even if it wasn't dead, hopefully it would be stunned long enough for them to escape, and lose their trail outside of the station. Shouldering the grenade launcher and inhaling a deep breath, the young woman willed her racing heart and rattled nerves to settle down...

All while trying to ignore a strange trepidation building in her stomach...

* * *

As the elevator descended completely, the rubble suddenly shifted, larger pieces of stone and mortar falling away.

Heavy stomps crushed unlucky pieces into smaller fragments.

Silently, gloved fingers reached down for the dusty, discarded fedora...

* * *

As soon as the elevator cart completed its descent, and the gate pulled open with a cheery *_ding,_* Redfield and Redgrave were racing out into and through the narrow hallway. Claire was a step ahead, while Tony's hands dug through his coat pockets, producing the key card just as they darted out of the open door, arriving back in the parking deck. Ascending the small set of steps, the girl drew her revolver while giving the dead body of a badly-rotten dog with a gaping bullet hole in its skull a spare glance, before looking back at her partner as he slipped the card into the parking gate's slot. A gentle *_bing_* later, and the red light was now a glowing green, the gate shuddering once before it began to ascend.

Looking back to his partner as he drew his shotgun and began to reload it, Tony asked, "Where'd that piece of shit take Sherry?"

"To some orphanage close by. Stingy asshole didn't even bother to give me directions," she replied, recalling her unpleasant phone call with Irons not too long ago.

That prompted a disgusted scoff from the brash young man, who finished reloading his Remington, and slung it back over his shoulder next to his sword. He then drew his Beretta, ejecting the spent clip before slapping in a new one, then chambering a round, and finally holstering it. He then repeated the process with his Colt before speaking again.

"We'll have to stick to the back alleys, then. Move through the streets only when we don't have a choice. We'll need to be quick, though. It's probably still pretty bad out there."

Claire nodded... and for a small moment, found herself contemplating telling Tony of her encounter with the bandaged stranger, Gilver.

She had so many questions. And the longer she stared at him, the more she had.

He had just taken the worse beating she had every seen _anyone_ be on the unfortunate end of... And yet, there he was. Standing calmly, and with no indication he was experiencing any discomfort at all, when earlier she had to help him back up to his feet. But even that had only been for a brief moment, the young man seemingly shrugging the damage off before running after her, and performing feats he shouldn't have been able to pull off so quickly. The parking deck was shrouded in shadows, the lighting poor, but aside from a spot or two of dried blood on his face, she was sure there wasn't even so much as a _bruise_ on him.

Just as the younger Redfield felt she had gathered her nerve and opened her mouth, unsure of what exactly she was going to ask her boyfriend, but desperate to understand Gilver's mysterious warnings from earlier-

A loud *_CRASH_* broke the brief reverie, making the duo whirl around towards where it had originated from. Claire's eyes widened with disbelief as she instantly realized the origin of the sound came from the same hallway she and Tony had come from only moments ago-

-and stomping towards them was their monstrous pursuer, its dark overcoat covered in dust and soot, its black and red eyes locked on them, and its gloved fists clenched tightly at its sides.

No sooner had Claire spotted the creature did Tony snatch her upper arm, and shove her towards the still-rising gate, pushing her under it with a cry of "_Get out of here!_"

The girl stumbled under the gate, watching in bewilderment as he drew his sword out. But before she could even open her mouth to protest, the swordmaster snapped at her without even looking away from the approaching fiend. "Sherry needs one of us to save her, so don't even _think_ about arguing with me! _GO!_"

With that final shout, the young mercenary charged forward, his blade thrust out like a scorpion's stinger ready to strike. And all she could think to do was numbly stumble away a few steps before turning around, beginning to run as fast as she could up the small slope. Claire's mind raced as she grasped for an inkling of where to begin to look for the orphanage. Behind her, she heard swinging metal striking once, twice, three strokes of a blade-

Followed by a pained shout, and a loud *_CRASH_* of something being flung hard into one of the parked cruisers, metal crumpling, glass shattering on impact, and another choked cry of pain sounding out. On instinct, the young woman stopped and spun around, eyes wide with fear for Tony-

And saw the coated monster was moving after her, ducking under the almost completely risen gate to begin its relentless pursuit for her now, its burning eyes meeting her terrified grey-blue orbs. She found herself frozen in place, the creature closing the distance with two long strides, its massive form looming over her much smaller form.

Its right arm extended out, gloved fingers reaching out for her _neck_-

"_CLAIRE, DOWN!_"

Tony's sudden shout broke her from her terrified fugue, and the biker girl dove forward, just barely escaping the closing fingers of the towering giant's grasp-

-and no sooner had she struck the asphalt did the loudest gunshot she had ever heard roar through the air, bellowing like a cannon. A split-second later, the younger Redfield heard metal ricochet and glass shatter, while the massive monster suddenly stopped in its tracks.

For a brief moment, Claire dared to believe whatever had made that noise had finally somehow stopped the creature... But when she chanced a glance back up, her eyes widened, before blinking as she saw the giant's fedora on the ground...

A massive, smoking hole was on the crown, the hat's top almost completely gone...

From behind the beast, her boyfriend's voice called out. "Aww, ain't that a kick in the ass?"

Peeking behind the behemoth, Claire spotted Tony standing by the open gate, balancing the massive handgun he had taken from the S.T.A.R.S. Office on his right shoulder, his familiar, arrogant grin and mocking, icy eyes locked on the dark behemoth.

"That was a nice hat and all, but take it from me, baldy. Fedoras are _never_ comin' back in style."

The giant looked from the girl to its ruined hat, the hand that had reached for her neck suddenly running over its bald, scarred dome...

Suddenly, it whirled around to face Tony again, moving so much faster than before, she could actually detect an undeniable trace of real _anger _in its body-language.

_Who knew a monster could get so attached to a hat?..._ her mind babbled, the young woman resisting the urge to let out a terrified giggle.

The golem stood still for a single moment, before charging at the gunslinger, its boots stomping down hard enough to make the idling cruiser shake in place.

Seeing this, his smirk now becoming a full-blown sneer, Redgrave crouched slightly, wagging both hands while challenging, "_Come and get me!_"

If Claire didn't know any better, her boyfriend seemed eerily excited to confront what was undoubtedly imminent death. But she had to trust that he knew what he was doing. Pushing herself back up to her heels, the young woman knew this was her only chance to escape and find the orphanage. And while part of her wanted to stay behind and try to help Tony in some way, she still had to save Sherry from Irons.

She was the only one who _could,_ at this point.

"Hang on, Sherry..." Claire whispered as she raced off into the rainy street, ignoring the sounds of Tony's sword swinging through the air.

* * *

_One hour earlier..._

* * *

_"The orphanage? Where is that?"_

"In the neighborhood," Irons snapped. "You'll find it."

His beady eyes were narrowed in a contempt-filled glare as he stared at the black and white image of Claire Redfield on the security monitor, watching the young woman from the private feed he had installed in his office. Right now, the bitch was holding the item that was the source of his great aggravation towards her and the brat he currently had locked up in one of the toy rooms not far from where he was now. Said item was a small gold charm clutched between the older girl's thumb and index finger.

Such a small, mundane item, but it was his ticket to a better life once he escaped Raccoon.

_"Is Sherry alright?"_ she demanded, and though the angle of the camera in his office didn't let him see her lips moving, he easily heard her voice from the cordless, mobile phone held to his right ear, her voice barely betraying her obvious worry for the little girl.

_So pathetic,_ Irons mused to himself, resisting the urge to shake his head. Claire and her asshole brother were too much alike, so annoyingly concerned for others and their well-being.

What did she have to gain by saving Sherry? Absolutely nothing, since it was clear she had no idea about the pendant's real value if she was so eager to trade it for the brat. Not to mention that while the orphanage was indeed only a few blocks away from the station, the former police chief had failed to mention the fact the streets were crawling with virus carriers, human and animal alike. But here was this goody-two shoes young girl ready to risk life and limb for a stranger, even a little brat.

Pathetic. But it did mean she would play into his hands whether she liked it or not.

"For now," he warned her, leaving it at that.

Claire's body language shifted, her shoulders rolling as anger filled her. _"I swear, you bastard, if you've hurt her-"_

He hit a button on the phone, ending the call, unwilling to listen to anymore of the Redfield's self-righteous bullshit. Irons had heard enough sanctimonious crap like it from her brother. It still pissed him off like nothing else that the elder Redfield sibling had escaped well before the shit had hit the fan, and that Raccoon City - _his_ city - had turned into hell on Earth.

With an annoyed sigh, the older man hit a button on the monitor he was observing, switching over from watching Claire fume at his office phone to observing the Birkin girl sitting forlornly on the bed in the room he had stashed her in.

More irritation filled him at the sight of the child. All the hours he had spent looking for her in the station, dodging around his now-undead officers and those skinless mutations Umbrella had probably cooked up in that damn lab under the city now let loose in the station, and the rarer encounters with the living he hadn't allowed himself to enjoy like he had Ed and that loony he had locked up on the third floor. No, he had to just shoot them, and keep searching. Such a waste.

And when he had finally found her, the little brat had dropped the damn locket.

"Stupid kid. If you just hadn't dropped that fucking thing, I could let you go..." he whispered to himself as he glared down at Sherry, sitting on that bed, and no doubt feeling sorry for her predicament, which just made him angrier.

The hell did she have to feel bad for? She hadn't spent years climbing the ladder in some old police station, in a shit-splat town in the middle of nowhere, then spend another decade building a rapport with the _real _power behind Raccoon City, only to see his dreams crumble because of that disaster in July, when that bastard Albert Wesker had failed to clean up whatever mess Umbrella had spilled in the Arklay Forest.

The only good thing to come out of that was Wesker biting the bullet and dying, so he wasn't Irons' problem anymore. But then Chris Redfield had to start running his damn mouth off about conspiracies, and Umbrella's involvement. That had gotten Sherry's asshole father breathing down his neck even more than he already was, that fucked-up nutjob already a mess, what with Umbrella demanding his new virus - his '_precious_' G - be turned over so they could recover from the financial blow of losing two facilities back-to-back. Redfield may have disappeared to Europe a month or so later, but that skank Jill Valentine had tried to follow up.

Irons had placed that bitch under house arrest to keep her nose out of where it didn't belong, but dealing with her had distracted him. Although he had to admit that not hearing from Birkin or his bitch wife for a while had been nice, too late did he realize that had been the first real sign of the end coming. Then the cannibal attacks resumed, this time in the city. And while Irons had managed to seal Raccoon up to keep the infection from spreading, Umbrella had written them all off as dead.

Maybe the rest of the mouth-breathers would accept their fate, but not him. Not Brian Irons.

He had allowed himself to finally indulge in some long repressed... _hobbies_ once order had collapsed entirely. But in the midst of hunting down Mayor Warren's lovely daughter, Katherine - who had been waiting for him downstairs in his private study - an idea had struck him.

Birkin and his wife were probably long dead by now, but their research - not to mention their _samples_ \- still had to be down in that lab underneath the city, right? All he had to do was find Sherry, get the pendant, and he could use Umbrella's private escape platform to get out of the city, and net himself a nice little going-away present. Something to sell off to one of their competitors for a few million or so to make up for all the money Birkin owed him and had never repaid, despite _everything_ Irons had done for him over the years. Then he could find somewhere to retire in luxury... and enjoy his favorite hobby of taxidermy in peace, free from worry for the rest of his days.

Irons found himself grinning - leering, really - despite his still-foul mood. So what if Sherry dropping the stupid thing had delayed his departure from his once-beloved city by a couple of hours, or so? If anything, it gave him time to craft one last masterpiece on his cutting table. Oh, how he could hardly wait...

And... maybe, once Redfield's sister delivered the pendant...

Irons licked his lips, his grin becoming perverse and hungry.

He could show Claire his cutting table, too...

* * *

Soft blue eyes once more found themselves drawn to the rain-speckled window. The _only_ window in the room, filled to the brim with numerous toys, bright wallpaper under the various crayon-scrawled drawings, colorful rug, sheets, and pillows. The darkened city just peeking behind the glass, the dark storm clouds looming over it, matched Sherry Birkin's feelings of utter helplessness and hopelessness. The only consolation, if it could even be called that, was that the horrible fat man had pretty much left her alone after dragging her through the streets, and stuffing her in this room in the orphanage he had brought them to.

The toy-filled room was fairly shadowed, the faint, dull light from the tall lamp in the corner, and the smaller one on the desk stand next to the bed offered little illumination, the light leaking through the rain-splashed window from the streetlights outside seeming somehow brighter. Sherry continued to watch the rain fall, a faint part of her hoping that older girl she had met, Claire, was alright. She had hated watching that fat man hurt her, and she feared for the woman's safety now that she was all alone in the police station with all those horrible monsters...

_But at least that monster chasing me is dead... I hope,_ she thought.

Claire's friend, that man with the white hair in the red coat, had been fighting it while the older girl had led her away. She had promised her he would be okay, and kill that horrible thing. The little girl swallowed, her mouth going dry as a terrifying thought occurred to her.

What if the red-coated man _hadn't_ killed it? What if it was still alive, still looking for her? Inhaling sharply, Sherry didn't have long to ponder that potential terror when her current tormentor reminded her of his awful existence.

The sound of approaching footsteps, muffled by the locked door blocking her from the hallway beyond, caught her attention, and the blonde child saw the faint light illuminating from under the door disappear into a heavy shadow, a man's voice mockingly crooning a moment later.

"Don't worry, Sherry. It'll _all_ be over soon..."

His words were filled with a terrible anticipation, and while the little girl hated to agree with that terrible man, she somehow knew he was right. The longer she waited, the more likely it was that Claire was in increasing danger from being trapped in the station, or maybe even trying to find her. If she did come here, that horrible man would hurt her again, and she knew there would be nothing she could do to stop him...

...If she stayed in this room, that is.

Swallowing again, firming her shoulders, Sherry looked towards the far wall just ahead of the bed, past a pile of toys, and under the upper wall where crayon-scribbled drawings hung. A small section of the wall had been covered by a piece of cardboard taped against it.

Looking from that spot on the wall, towards the door one last time, the child whispered to herself, "There has to be a way out of here..."

If she could sneak out and escape this strange building, maybe she could reunite with Claire and her friend, and they could all find her mom, and get out of the city together. She would have to be quick, but quiet. Sherry knew she could be quiet, having learned from an early age not to bother her parents unless she wanted to risk them raising their voices, and glaring down on her with spite.

But this was going to be a lot more dangerous than getting shouted at by her mother and father. That fat man had an even shorter fuse than them, and if he caught her trying to escape...

The blonde little girl shook her head, forcing that train of thought away as she stood up from the bed, her hands knitting together in front of her. She was going to have to be _brave._ Braver than she had ever been before in her short twelve years of life. But if she could escape, she knew she'd save herself and Claire from whatever horrible fate awaited them at that fat man's hands. Her heart was pounding so hard, her chest hurt, and her stomach felt fluttery and strange. But she had to ignore these feelings if she was going to try and escape.

Quickly moving towards the wall with the taped up cardboard on it, Sherry moved her hands over the corners where the dark tape was holding it against the wall. With a little work wriggling her fingers under the tape, she was able to peel it back just enough to get the tape off the wall, letting the cardboard fall away-

-and reveal a hole in the wall, just tall and wide enough if she crouched, for her to sneak through. An excited smile briefly replaced her look of woe and fear, but she forced it away, her breath coming out a little faster as she quickly ducked and scuttled under the hole in the wall, arriving in a new room.

Standing up, the twelve-year-old looked around in wonder, asking herself, "What is this?"

It looked like a doctor's examination room at first glance, one corner shelf holding a bunch of medical items and tools, while an eye exam chart hung on the wall immediately in front of her, but there was a desk in the corner along with a computer monitor, which showed the room Sherry had just escaped from. Swallowing again, finding her nerves getting worse by the moment, she quickly made for the only door, which was unlocked much to her relief. Pushing it open, the blonde-haired child arrived back in the bright blue hallway decorated with colorful smiling animals and flowers, with more children's crayon drawings taped along them as well. It reminded her of her elementary school from a few years ago, but that thought only added to her growing unease.

There was something horribly _off_ about this place, and the longer she stayed here, the more she wanted to leave. Inhaling shakily, hands still clutched together, the preteen quickly turned to her right to head down the hallway, her heart leaping when she saw a second door, already ajar-

-and blocked off by an askew crib, making it impossible to push the door open entirely, with no room to even try to squeeze through. Backing away from the door, feeling her hopes for escape plummeting, Sherry quickly resumed down the hallway, flinching slightly when a loud rumble of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning illuminated the dim corridor. Passing a small desk with an open notebook, a diary of some kind, the twelve year old girl glanced down at the floor, noting the hopscotch drawn on the floor, before looking up and seeing she had arrived at a dead-end.

Panic made her heart pound in her chest even harder, her fluttering stomach making her queasy. But then she noticed the large dresser next to wall, while further up was an open window. Blinking, the girl quickly moved towards the dresser, her eyes looking from the window a few feet above her, back down to the tall dresser itself. The window was maybe four or five feet higher up compared to her small stature, but she was willing to bet the dresser in front of her could help her clear that.

Finding the handle on the second drawer just slightly at level with her stomach, Sherry pulled it open about midway, and to her excitement, saw it was filled to the brim with boxes of children's food and packaged juices. Pulling herself up, and standing atop the food containers, the little girl let out a breath of relief she hadn't realized she was holding when she found herself standing easily, the drawer not so much as bending even slightly under her light weight. She repeated the process on a higher drawer, this one also filled with more food items and other boxed materials, easily letting her climb to the top of the drawer, and slip herself feet first through the open window.

Landing with a soft "_Hup!_" in a crouch, Sherry rose back up to take in her new surroundings with wary eyes. She knew as soon as she saw all the cribs, standing tables, and other furniture that she had found herself in the room with the blocked door. Steadying her breathing in hopes it would calm her pounding heartbeat, the blonde preteen moved between the tightly bunched furniture before ducking under a children's castle play set to arrive at the exit door.

Finding it unlocked, she stepped out into a walkway overlooking the lobby, her eyes lighting up when she spotted the double doors below, only a few feet away from the stairs. Her hopes soaring, she quickly but quietly made her way across the balcony and down the steps, rushing up to the doors, and snatching the handle as soon as she was an arm's length away-

-but they refused to budge, the handle held firmly in place. They were locked. Futilely, she pulled at the handle with all her strength, but the door remained firm and in place.

Fighting back a wail of frustrated helplessness, Sherry let her hand fall away, her fingers knotting together again as she hissed, "Darnit, I need the key!"

There was a desk in the back of the lobby, past a smaller table meant for children. But a quick search behind it revealed no hidden key to her freedom. That left only one other option: the lone door to the left of the desk. The young girl stared at it, her blue eyes wide with fear, her already-pale skin now going ghost white.

She had no idea what was behind that door, but she knew that horrible man couldn't be anywhere else if she hadn't seen him in any of the other rooms. She knew if he found her out of the room he had locked her in, she would be in far worse trouble. But if the key to the front doors, and her freedom, were anywhere, it would be somewhere behind that door. Swallowing, steeling herself as best as she could despite the ever-growing terror, Sherry approached the door, gingerly touching the handle.

To her relief, this door was unlocked. Turning the knob and pushing it open, she stepped into the new corridor, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could. This hallway was a stark contrast to the first one the little girl had found herself in, the walls lined with dark red wallpaper and portraits, almost the total opposite of the bright blue painted walls and happy children's scrawls. Sherry supposed that this was where the adult staff of this orphanage worked.

Just before stepping into the new hallway, the twelve-year-old paused for a moment, frowning. She could hear music, or at least what sounded like music. An orchestra was playing, a man's voice in tempo with it, but not speaking English. It was strange, and more than a little foreboding. Swallowing, she entered the hallway, ignoring the strange music, her mind wandering.

Sherry had been confused as to why the fat man had brought her to Raccoon City's only orphanage. She hadn't recognizing it initially, but she had quickly figured out where she was soon enough. She recalled the times she had heard her parents discussing this place behind closed doors, though the little girl never understood why they referred to the orphans as 'subjects.' She also knew that this orphanage had been closed for renovations. At least, that's what she heard some of her teachers say once. Her parents had talked about a 'spill,' an 'escaped subject,' and the word 'contamination.'

It was all so confusing, and she didn't have time to think about it. Crouching slightly, Sherry moved quickly through the corridor into the next, her hopes flaring when she saw several windows along the wall, but quickly sank when she saw the iron bars just beyond the glass. Another blockade between her and escaping. She turned her eyes ahead, spotting some curtained windows of the next room, before promptly freezing in place when a heavy shadow passed over them, an all too familiar figure.

"Oh no... It's him!" she whispered too herself. The child almost stopped in her tracks, shrinking down even more, wanting to just turn and run away. But she dug deep, trying to ignore her pounding heart and fluttering stomach.

She had come too far to stop now. She had to look for another way out, or even the key for the front door. She would just need to be extra quiet, and extra careful.

Staying crouched low and turning the corner, the preteen saw a door at the end of the hallway, the music growing louder, which she supposed was actually a good thing, since it meant the fat man would be listening to it, and not for any other sounds. Reaching for the handle, she turned it slowly, feeling a small relief when even she couldn't hear the quiet *_click_* of the lock opening.

Pushing the door open slowly, Sherry arrived in a new room, a large office space. To her left, multiple shelves were lined up with various items stored upon them, from bottles to buckets, while in front of her was a small table with an old typewriter on top of it. Rising to a half-crouch, her eyes peered up to peek through the shelves in case the fat man suddenly walked by. The twelve-year-old girl rounded to the left past the shelves-

-then promptly went back, slapping both hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

In the center of the office was a large wooden table with a white cloth over it... and the body of a woman maybe around Claire's age. Her skin was a strange, blueish hue, wearing only a white gown. Her eyes were closed, her blonde locks tied in twin tails hanging limply over her shoulders, with dozens of bottles and needles laying around her body.

Sherry felt tears of terror prickle her eyes, her heart beating so hard, she felt like her chest was going to explode. She had thought the zombies and the strange, inside-out men clinging to the walls of the police station had been horrifying, but she knew whatever the fat man was doing with this poor woman's body was _sick._ And really, she didn't even want to think about it anymore.

Swallowing again, her mouth painfully dry, Sherry peeked around the corner, looking away from the body, past it, towards a desk in the far corner... where a key rack was secured just above it. A lone key idled, a weird hook hanging from the ring it was attached to. Part of the little girl's fear gave way to a faint spark of hope.

_That's it! It has to be the key to the front door!_ her mind cheered.

She could hear the horrible man rummaging in the corner just opposite of the desk, a white curtain sheet over him, keeping him from view, and Sherry from his.

Dropping back down into a crouch, the young blonde quickly darted towards the table, unable and unwilling to look at the body of the woman atop it. Sliding past it, she arrived at the desk. Chancing a glance to her left, seeing the silhouette of the fat man still rummaging around, Sherry quickly rose back up and onto the chair, using it for height and leverage to reach out for the key.

It was just an inch or so out of reach, if she just leaned a bit closer-

Then the strange music stopped, the room growing quiet, save for the rattle of metal and sheet as the fat man emerged from behind the curtain, his beady eyes instantly locked on the twelve-year-old.

"Where you going, Sherry?" the fat man asked with a dark smile, his voice low and edged with anger.

The young girl instantly flinched back and away from him and the desk, the key forgotten and out of reach.

The man stalked towards the desk, snatching the key off the rack while hissing, "I told you to stay put." Sherry continued to back away while the much taller and larger man advanced, clipping the key to a belt loop on his pants while sneering, "You need to learn to listen."

Terror and panic raced through the child's heart, and all she could do was keep backing up. But in moments there was no else to go, as she backed into the table. "_Leave me alone!_ Just, please..."

When she hit the edge of the table, her head snapped back, watching a large brown bottle shake from the impact.

The fat man just glared down at her before snarling, "Time to teach some manners!" He started for her, moving quickly-

-and Sherry, on pure instinct and fear-laced adrenaline, snatched the bottle next to her, before throwing it directly at the man's fat face, nailing his wide left cheek. The bottle shattered, its contents splashing all over the left half of the man's face. He immediately screamed in agony, his hands scrabbling at his left cheek as the fluid from the bottle hissed, and turned the skin an angry, inflamed red, smoke wafting from between his fingers as they clutched at the ruined flesh.

Knowing she had _really_ done it now, the little girl bolted, dashing for the door as the hissing man continued to clutch at his burned face, before suddenly grabbing a nearby metal cart and shoving it over.

"_You little bitch!_"

Giving him one last glance as he clutched his face and snarled, "You're gonna pay for this!... _Aghagh,_ you little shit!" Sherry dashed for the door, and back out into the hallway.

_Hide! I've gotta hide!_ Her mind screamed as she ran for her life.

* * *

Irons stomped after the little brat, watching her slip around the corner of the tight hallway. Feeling the corrosive fluid continuing to eat away at the left half of his face, he shouted, "You are gonna be _so_ fucking _sorry!_"

"_GO AWAY!_" the girl screeched back at him, her whiny voice further grating on his enraged state.

_Goddammit!_ All she had to was stay in her fucking room and keep quiet, and he would have let her go after getting the damn pendant back from Redfield! Instead, she had deliberately disobeyed him, and fucking disfigured him to boot! Growling under his breath, he slammed the door to his office shut, stabbing the key in the hole to lock it before stomping after Sherry.

The little brat was quick, just dashing out of the next door. And by the time he was through it, she was already up the stairs for the second floor, uselessly crying, "_Help! Somebody please!_"

Irons couldn't keep the sneer off his face or out of his voice as he called after her, "You stupid bitch, that's a _dead end!_"

She was already at the door, yanking it open, and vanishing inside. Chuckling, the man quickly locked the door behind him before making a dash for the stairs, climbing up them two at a time, wincing as he felt and heard the corrosive fluid on his face bubble and burn deeper into his flesh, the pain like a fierce sunburn coupled with dozens of stinging hornets. _Ooh,_ when he got his hands on her...

Arriving at the door, he flung it open, arriving in the large nursery. He quickly pulled his flashlight off his belt, flicking it on before locking the door behind him, trapping the little brat in here with him. There was no escape now...

Surveying the room, searching through the heavy shadows for any sign of movement, dragging the beam of his light over them, the former police chief called out, "It's all over now! Door's _locked!_"

Only silence was his response. Groaning in annoyance and slight pain, Irons stalked deeper into the room, kicking the various toys around the door aside, wishing he was kicking Sherry's side instead. He'd find her, though. There was nowhere else to go...

Continuing further into the room, waving his light around, he winced and hissed as his face continued to burn, his left eye narrowing as he struggled to keep it open, slight fumes wafting up, and bringing tears to his eyes. Shoving a crib aside, Irons continued to look down and around, but spotted no movement at all.

"Where are you?! _Show yourself!_ I _know_ you're in here! The longer it takes me to find you, the _worse_ it's gonna be!" he bellowed.

And by god, he was a man of his word if nothing else. If that little brat thought she knew suffering, he was gonna _redefine_ the word for her once he got his hands on her!

No response, though. The only sound he could hear was his own breathing. Growling, he shoved a crib aside, peering into the small kitchen area before moving back. Where the fuck was she?!

"Little bitch's gotta be in here somewhere..." he hissed, stomping back towards the door, and quickly glancing through the space the changing area occupied.

Nothing. He started to turn when he slammed his knee against one of the cribs, eliciting a cry of pain from him.

Great, a busted knee on top of his frying face.

"_Urgh-ughagh! Goddammit!_" he snarled. Irons was gonna snap Sherry's own legs like twigs once he found her.

Turning back around, checking the changing station a second time just to be sure. Still nothing. Aggravation fueled his fury. Where the fuck was she hiding?!

"Sonofabitch..." he murmured, moving around a crib and smashed his free fist on a table in the other side of the room. She couldn't be hiding anywhere else; there was nowhere to go!

"This is your _last_ fucking chance!" he shouted out. "_SHOW YOURSELF! **NOW!**_"

His voice boomed through the room, but Sherry still refused to reveal herself. Fine by him. He'd make her regret ever being be born for the shit she was putting him through.

He stomped through the second half of the nursery, his flashlight beam darting from one spot to another, when he stumbled, the burning agony eating away at his face growing in intensity by the second, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

Clutching his ruined left cheek, Irons moaned, "_Aghah, fuck, it BUUUURNS!_"

Water! He needed water to flush and douse the corrosive chemical eating away at his skin!

He dashed for the door just opposite of him. Jamming his key into the lock, he threw it open, staggering into the small bathroom. Fumbling for the sink, he turned the cold water on, and began splashing the liquid onto his face. He couldn't keep the groan of relief down as the cool water began washing the burning fluid off his skin...

* * *

The key with the hook on the ring hung out of the hole on the bathroom door, swaying slightly. The fat man was so busy washing his face where the bottle had broken against it, he never saw Sherry emerge from under one of the cribs and snatch the key out of the lock. She had hidden under one of the cribs closest to the door, her hands over her mouth the entire time to keep herself from screaming or crying out any time the man would stomp closer to her, or bellow his threats out. When she heard him scramble into the bathroom, she knew this was her only chance.

Racing back to the other door, the blonde girl jammed the key into the lock, when she heard the water turn off and the fat man asking aloud, "Where the fuck is my key?!"

Then the lights came on, the man having found the light switch on the wall by the bathroom door. She froze as he exclaimed triumphantly, "_I see you!_"

Somehow moving faster, the preteen unlocked the door, and raced back out onto the balcony, dashing down the stairs while whispering "Hurry... Hurry... Hurry..."

She could see the door. She was almost free!

She reached the door, feeling jubilant relief at the prospect of finally escaping. Jabbing the key into the lock, the child tried to push the door open-

-only to see a set of chains holding the doors closed from the outside.

"Wha- Won't open?!" she cried.

"_Nice try, Sherry!_" the fat man called from the floor above, and Sherry's hopes crashed then and there.

She couldn't escape. She couldn't get away.

Ripping the key free, the twelve-year-old ran for the door to the hallway she had gone through earlier, unlocking it quickly, and slamming it closed behind her, seeing the fat man arriving at the bottom of the stairs just before closing it. She locked it quickly, a part of her hoping she could keep him away from her until Claire or someone else found her-

-only to scream when the door shook and splintered apart, the sharp blade of an axe tearing through the flimsy wood.

"_I'm comin' in, Sherry!_" the fat man bellowed, continuing to hack the door apart.

Sherry twisted around and ran, making it around the first corner when she heard the door break apart completely, her tormentor snarling, "_Get over here, you little bitch!_"

His flashlight's beam fell on her just as she reached his office's door. Sherry unlocked it, and raced inside, heading for the table with the dead woman's body on top of it, crouching low by a corner. The fat man charged in after her, his beady eyes narrowed with fury.

"The game... is... _OVER!_"

His hands snatched her by her upper arms, and hoisted the struggling girl up with ease. All Sherry could do was scream and futilely kick her smaller legs out, crying, "_NO!_"

"_Now_ you're in trouble!" he hissed angrily, his ugly face even more monstrous and frightening thanks to the angry, red burnt flesh on the left side of it.

"_Let me go!_" she pleaded, her eyes watering-

-when a large, shadowed figure loomed behind the fat man. Sherry's blue eyes widened in terror when she saw a familiar, massive orange eye swirling around in the figure's bloated upper arm, causing her to scream.

The shadowed figure, the monster that had been stalking her throughout the police station, lunged out just as Irons was turning around, his tight grip on her releasing as his eyes widened in surprise and terror. But it was already too late.

A massive hand clamped over the man's entire head, and the flesh of the palm seemed to split open, slick, wet squelching noises issuing as _something_ slithered out of the palm of the monster's hand, and into Irons' open mouth. The fat man choked and gurgled as whatever it was slithered down his throat in a spray of dark fluid, before collapsing, his body going rigid before beginning to spasm.

Sherry crawled back behind the table, hearing the heavy footsteps of the monster behind her as she closed her eyes.

It had found her. And there was no escape now.

* * *

If not for the two zombies that had burst from behind a wire mesh fence's door, Claire would have never found her way to the orphanage Irons had ordered her to go to. She had been running onto the street just outside the police parking garage, the sounds of Tony's renewed battle with the unstoppable, coat-wearing behemoth still ringing in her ears when the fence's door came crashing down with a harsh clatter and a heavy smack, a lone male zombie having brought the door down with its weight, a second undead staggering after it with a hungry groan.

The sudden noise and motion drew the collegiate girl's immediate attention, her head snapping towards the noise, her panicked running coming to a stop. The zombie on the collapsed door stumbled up, its hands reaching out for her while the already-upright ghoul lumbered for her as well, bloody drool dripping from its open mouth, one hand outstretched and grasping for the living woman. Claire backed up a few steps, her gaze snapping over her shoulder while her right hand drew her revolver, before she set her eyes forward again.

The two zombies were still shuffling after her, but the pink-vested woman saw that they had moved away from the now-open gate in the fence just enough for her to get by them if she was fast enough. Not wanting to waste any more ammunition than she already had, the student quickly sprinted past the two undead, the crawling one making a lunging grab for her ankle while the standing one's outstretched arm was smacked away when she struck out with her hand gripping the pistol. By the time the fallen undead had finally staggered back onto its feet to join its turning companion, their would-be meal was already down the small alleyway, and soon racing up a flight of metal stairs, two at a time.

Claire arrived at the top of the stairway, and onto a fire escape situated between several buildings, the young biker girl breaking into a run as she quickly holstered her revolver, and reached for the Mac-10 hanging by her side, ejecting the empty clip before slapping in a new one; the second-to-last one she had. As she turned the corner to the left at the end of the fire escape, she numbly noted a large painted mural of a smiling couple with the Umbrella logo and a slogan she didn't bother to read, her mind currently racing and preoccupied. She forced her fear and worry for her boyfriend aside, her thoughts scrambling as she tried to come up with a plan to find the orphanage Irons had taken Sherry to.

As she rounded the corner of the fire escape, Claire found herself overlooking a large residential neighborhood filled with dozens of parked cars and a lone bus, with a fenced basketball court, several homes... and a large building at the very end of the street, blocked off by a brightly-painted wooden gate. The young woman's eyes widened, a relieved smile brightening her dirt and ash-covered face as she realized she was only a few blocks from her destination.

"That's gotta be the orphanage!" she whispered to herself aloud, unable to contain her relief or budding excitement.

Unsure of how much time Tony had bought her, the girl hastened her gait, practically throwing herself down the flight of steps to the street below, ignoring a lone female zombie in a red top and green shorts, her pale skin covered in bright blood that matched her matted hair, while the living woman hopped over the large green dumpster blocking the alleyway-

-and flinched back with a shocked cry when several dark objects slammed against the chain-link fence barring the neighborhood street off, deep barks overlapping and rising over the jangling metal. Claire blinked, realizing it was three very large, dark-furred dogs that had thrown themselves against the fence, before spotting several deep red gashes along their bodies and the white, cataract-coated eyes that glared hungrily at her.

_Zombie dogs,_ she realized, though these hellhounds seemed to be just as quick and hardy as their living counterparts.

"I don't have time for this shit!" she hissed, bringing the Mac-10 up with both hands before squeezing off several dozen rounds at the undead dogs.

The bullets smacked into their bellies and torsos, sending the animals flying back with pained "_Yipe!_" Their blood-soaked bodies hit the ground wetly, where they lay, still twitching and jerking, not completely dead, but hopefully down long enough for her to get by them.

Resuming her running, Claire slammed through another fenced door, and dashed around the parked cars, racing for the basketball court since a blockade of parked cars prevented her from running straight for the orphanage gate. Shoving open another door in the court's fence, she dashed for the second door before skidding to a halt when two more zombie dogs lunged for the fence between themselves and her, their barks harsh and furious. Gritting her teeth, Redfield raised the submachine gun and opened fire again, this time aiming higher, and scoring several shots on the dogs' heads, knocking them back flat, where they lay still and quiet.

"Now play dead," she hissed before kicking the next door open, and dashing into the street.

No sooner did the young crack shot run around another automobile did she discover the parked bus effectively blocking her off once more, and a third zombie dog quickly sitting up as soon as it heard her steps. She raised her weapon, her grey blue eyes noticing that the door at the front of the bus, and the one at the end behind another car, were both open.

Not wanting to waste anymore time or bullets, the college student darted into the bus, almost stopping when she saw the interior of the transit was littered with bloody bodies, all torn into and missing chunks of flesh. Racing through the bus, letting out a frightened cry when one of the bodies weakly made a feeble grab for her leg, the young woman quickly arrived back outside, less than a hundred feet from the orphanage, the gate doors partially open-

-and three undead dogs circling the street. Their white eyes landed on her, all of them beginning to growl once they spotted their next fresh meal. Fighting back a curse, Claire backed up a few steps when she heard another growl coming from inside the bus, and realized the other dog must have followed her inside. With no other choice, the girl set her gaze straight ahead for the open doors in the orphanage's gate, and charged forward.

The zombie dogs eagerly raced towards her, their jaws open as they barked again, spittle and blood flying from their open jaws. Shoving the Mac-10 forward, the woman sprayed bullets blindly, several finding their way into the undead hellhounds, and causing them to sprawl on the asphalt with pained yips, while the third was untouched, and lunged through the air for her neck-

-And the collegiate girl ducked and weaved around the flying animal, passing through the gates, and quickly turning to slam them closed, sliding the lock back into place. Huffing for breath, Claire backed away from the doors, which quickly began rattling and banging, the hungry snarls of the undead dogs only partially muffled by the wooden barrier, though the doors held strong and sturdy, much to her relief. Letting her eyes close in relief, the tired young woman stood there for a moment to catch her breath, her heart pounding in her chest painfully.

When she had her breathing back under control, and her heart's beating resumed to a quicker but less painful pace, Claire ejected the machine gun's magazine, quickly counting the remaining rounds before slapping it back home, and letting the gun hang back by her side as she turned to face the looming orphanage home.

"Hang on, Sherry...!"

The younger Redfield froze in place when she saw the front doors were smashed open, scraps of wood and broken chains littering the ground.

"Oh god, no. _Sherry!_" Claire uttered aloud in horror as she ran inside the building's main room.

Aside from several children's toys scattered about the floor, a lone desk in the far back, and a set of stairs climbing to the next floor, there was no sign of any kind of struggle, or any other kind of disturbance.

Frowning, her eyes narrowing, she called out, "_Hello?! I have the pendant!_"

Only silence was her response, no Chief Irons announcing himself with a gun pointed at Sherry like she had envisioned. Her eyes filling with trepidation, Redfield stepped further in, her gaze moving from one spot to another as she searched for a sign, or anything really. Something to give her even a single clue as to what had happened-

-when she saw a second door just to the left of the desk also smashed open, a discarded red fire axe among the broken wood. Seeing this filled her with fresh terror, and the woman quickly made for the door, arriving in a long corridor hallway filled with books and paintings.

Walking just fast enough to quickly round corner and see a set of windows ahead, she called out again, "Sherry?! Sherry, are you here?!"

She was just about to turn to the right-

-when Irons staggered out from around the corner, the left half of his fat face covered in angry, red burnt flesh, his pudgy features twisted in a grimace of agony.

Before Claire could react, he lunged out and grabbed her by her shoulders, shaking her as he slurred out, "_Your fault...!_"

"What?" she gasped, trying to shake free from his grip, but he had what felt like a death grasp on her. "What happened?!"

"_Took too long!_" he desperately spoke on.

"Oh god..." the woman whispered as a rumble of thunder issued, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated Irons' hideous new features, and his contorting, pain-filled face. She saw a strange, dark fluid was leaking from the corners of his mouth as he began to jerk and writhe like he was having a seizure of some sort.

Unable to fight back her horror and disgust, the startled student shoved him back with all her might, both hands striking his chest as she screamed, "_Get off of me!_"

The fat police chief flew backwards, falling to his knees, his own hands scrabbling at his abdomen. Claire then realized she could hear a strange, thick, meaty sound coming from him. Her eyes widened with horror when blossoms of bright red blood began appearing under his gray vest.

The corrupt chief of police let out a final, choked curse, "_DAMN YOU, WILLIAM!_" which morphed into a scream of agony unlike anything she had ever heard before-

-which was drowned out by a horrible meaty *_CRUNCH_* of flesh tearing, and bone breaking as Irons' torso _exploded_ in a shower of gore.

Claire screamed when she saw _something_ pulling itself free from the gaping hole, a horrible screech rising over her own as a fist-sized thing pulled itself out of the corrupt police chief's body in a splash of blood. The corpse fell back with a heavy thump, the young woman flinching back as the creature that had burst forth from its impromptu womb skittered across the floor, its long tail leaving a trail of blood and flesh in its wake, before vanishing around the corner.

The woman's eyes unwillingly followed the strange creature's exit, before looking back to Irons' body in horror, her face pale and terrified as she whispered, "Jesus Christ..."

A chest-bursting monster, straight out of the movies...

Claire forced herself to gulp, her right hand gripping her chest as she fought down her rising gorge. Zombies were one thing. A invincible coated giant was one thing... Even a strange, human-looking _monster_ with a mutant limb and eye-like tumor was _one thing._ But the idea of something forcing its way into your body, and then bursting out of your chest?... That was a horror all unto itself, and one she wouldn't wish on anyone, even someone as despicable as Chief Irons. A part of her wondered just _what _had implanted that inside him, and a fresh spike of terror spiked through her heart when she wondered if it was still around-

The young woman's eyes widened, her head shooting up as she cried out, "_Sherry!_"

The thought of whatever had done that to Irons still being around, possibly searching for fresh victims to implant more of its abominable spawn into, or even now was after the terrified child sent the pink-vested cyclist back into a running sprint. She dashed over Irons' cooling body, and slammed into the door at the end of the corridor, arriving in a ransacked office space. Moving over fallen shelves, and stepping over various strewn about items, Claire didn't even pause to acknowledge the blue-skinned body of a young, blonde-haired woman in a thin white nightgown, the table she had been laying atop of overturned as well.

Moving into the back of the office space, she began to wonder if she should turn back and search the second floor for the little girl when she saw an open ladder hatch tucked away in the corner, just barely visible behind a smashed desk. Crouching down, the younger Redfield quickly climbed down the ladder, arriving at the bottom of some kind of storeroom.

Stepping away from the ladder, face filled with concern and fear, Claire called out, "_Sherry?! Where are you?!_"

The young college student began to make her way down the concrete set of stairs, descending deeper into what was presumably the orphanage's basement or storage cellar-

-when a young voice cried back, filled with relief, "_Claire!_"

Gaze snapping forward, tears of her own relief prickling the corners of her eyes, the older girl called back, "_Sherry!_ I'll be right there!"

Breaking into a run, Claire was unable to hide her joy at the sight of the blonde girl crouching behind some boxes, the child's own face brightening up as her rescuer quickly reached her, crouching down to pull her into a tight hug. Sherry returned the hug full-heartedly, while the young woman brushed her hair, sighing in relief that she had finally found the lost little girl safe and seemingly unharmed-

-when a loud crash from where the college student had arrived broke their reprieve. Claire quickly stood up, drawing her revolver while Sherry hid behind her. The elder of the two swallowed as she heard heavy footsteps quickly approaching them, and was unable to fight down her returning fear.

_Oh god, what now?_ her mind demanded as a looming figure began to emerge from the shadows...

* * *

_Earlier..._

* * *

As Claire dashed past the two zombies that had unwittingly provided her an escape route, back near the now-closed off parking deck, sounds of steel clashing against something possibly stronger than steel itself could still be heard, the noises echoing and reverberating louder and louder.

Then silence... but only for a moment.

The next saw a red blur smash into the lowered parking gate, and was forced through it, leaving a large hole. The blur smacked into the idle cruiser on the incline before bouncing a final time through the air, and coming to a painful halt atop the asphalt ground below in a heavy smack of flesh and clatter of metal.

Tony Redgrave collapsed onto his hands and knees, Woozy landing not too far away from him, before spinning off a few feet away in a splatter of rain. The white-haired swordsman wheezed and hacked a small gout of blood from his mouth, his nose gushing blood as well, courtesy of the cloaked behemoth that had blocked most of his sword strikes before finally punching him square in the face, then hauling its stunned quarry up like he weighed nothing, before throwing him through the closed parking gate.

Tony staggered back up, wincing as his nose set itself back into place before collapsing against the parked cruiser, painful coughs wracking him as he felt his broken back ribs begin knitting themselves back up as well.

"Startin' to think... _ack..._ shooting his hat off was a bad idea...!" he murmured to himself.

The massive juggernaut had been unrelenting before in its pursuit of him and Claire, but while shooting its stupid fedora had drawn its attentions away from the college girl to give her some time to escape, the beast had unleashed its fury for its lost piece of headgear on the unfortunate mercenary in red in a renewed assault without restraint or relent. When he heard the sound of metal crumbling and screeching apart, Tony glanced up in annoyance when he saw the giant tearing its way through the parking gate, making the hole formed from the living impromptu projectile's flight even wider as it pulled itself through.

Moving away from the vehicle, and towards his fallen broadsword to scoop the blade back up by its hilt before ducking behind another car, the bruised young man's thoughts raced as he struggled to come up with a strategy. His guns were useless; he already knew that. And while his sword could cut a few inches through its coat, the heavy material stopped Woozy from getting any deeper, which left him open to either getting punched or throttled by the monster. When he heard and felt the monster approach, alerted by the heavy pounds of its footsteps that shook the ground and the parked car he was ducking behind, he darted for another stalled vehicle: a large ATV. The armored military grade vehicle's presence made him want to ponder over its appearance in Raccoon City, but Redgrave ignored that thought, simply ducking by the front of it, his grip on his sword's hilt tight and ready.

A full-on confrontation was simply suicide at this point, its rage having given it a murderous focus on the youth. And while its attacks were more aggressive, the simple fact was that he had no way of significantly wounding the damn thing as long as it was wrapped up in that coat.

Leaning against the ATV, the man in red weighed his options. He could try to keep fighting, maybe get lucky, and somehow find a way to kill it. But running after Claire wasn't an option, especially if she had already found Sherry. That would just put them back on this thing's radar, and they were a lot more helpless than he was against it.

A groan from ahead drew his attention, causing the battered merc to look ahead, spotting two ghouls stumbling towards him, the bright lights of the streetlamp and neon sign for a gun shop catching his gaze-

-when Tony saw part of the street had given way into a massive hole, various wooden and metal scaffolding set up around it.

His thoughts flashed back to Ben's tape recording, the words "_big fucking sinkhole_" coming to mind, which prompted a wry grin to form on his face.

Maybe he couldn't fight this thing head-on, but he may have just found a way to beat it all the same. His only problem now was luring it towards the edge of the sinkhole...

The coated giant stomped around the line of parked cars, its dark, burning eyes scanning for any sign of movement of its quarry, one gloved hand running over its bald, scarred head. It noted the absence of its hat once again, and felt a spark of fresh fury through its beating black heart. A sudden movement ahead caught its attention, its gaze snapping forward as its body began charging ahead, shoving a parked truck aside from impeding its path. The behemoth stopped its charge when it saw it was only two viral carriers idling by the edge of the street, less than half-a-dozen feet from the gaping maw of a massive sinkhole.

The massive monster paused, its eyes observing the undead momentarily before glancing to its left, spying an open door in a gated fence. Just as it began to ponder if the crimson-coated man had followed his female companion did it catch the sound of rushing air-

-and the juggernaut spun around, its right arm shooting out, gloved hand snatching Tony Redgrave by the neck as the man had leapt through the air for the colossal monster, its left hand snapping out to catch the descending sword in both of the swordsman's hands by the blade, blocking what would have been a downward swipe for its exposed head. The mercenary struggled in the creature's grasp, the monster yanking Woozy out of his hands, and throwing it aside, the sword impaling itself into the asphalt.

The dreadnought watched the human struggle in its grasp, its red and black eyes locking with the man's own icy orbs... when they suddenly seemed to change, small sparks of red light flashing at the corners of his quarry's eyes, their blue gaze turning a bright gold and red.

Tony couldn't resist the vicious grin as he hissed, **"_Gotcha!_"** in a warped voice before grabbing the giant's outstretched arm with both hands, using the long limb as leverage to hoist his waist up, and bring both of his heels forward in a powerful dropkick square on the behemoth's chest with twice the strength of any of his past attacks, sending the monster careening back. Its grip on his throat was released in shock as it stumbled back, teetering towards the edge of the sinkhole.

The man in red landed in a crouch before rolling forward, his right arm snatching out to grasp the greatsword's hilt, yanking it free, and using the sudden forward momentum to thrust the blade forward, impaling the barbed tip directly into the fiend's gut. The blow pierced the beast's coat, the force of the attack the final tipping point.

The creature pitched back off the edge of the sinkhole entirely, its massive form quickly descending like a falling rock, swallowed by the abyss of blackness below. Tony watched the creature disappear into the dark with a satisfied smirk, his gold and red eyes flashing again, returning to their normal icy hue.

Balancing Woozy over his shoulder, the victor called down into the darkness below, "_Watch out for that last step, baldy! It's a bit of a doozy!_"

After letting out a victorious laugh, satisfied that the freak was now down and out, no longer able to chase after them, Tony turned towards the fenced door, slipping out his Beretta to squeeze off two shots, and put the two undead moving towards him down for good. He rushed through the door and up the steps of the fire escape, determined to catch up to his sweetheart before she got too far ahead of him.

As the red-clad youth vanished around the right turn of the fire escape pathway, back in the street below, the streetlight and neon sign of the Kendo Gunshop flickered, briefly casting heavy shadows over the street. When they flickered back to life, a lone figure in black was observing the edge of the sinkhole, before turning their gaze towards a large open sewer gate in the distance across the sinkhole.

The bandaged mystery man, Gilver, glanced after Tony for a moment, before moving towards the gun shop's doors.

As entertaining as it was to watch his current target get the life beaten out of him, the eerie swordsman found himself curious about that so-called federal agent woman he had seen leaving the precinct after her brief encounter with Redgrave...

While Anthony and his lover were his focus, that other woman's presence was unexpected... and intriguing. As he pushed the doors to the gun shop open, noting they were already unlocked, he briefly mused over what that so-called agent's true intentions were.

Tony may have naively believed her story... but Gilver _wasn't_ so easily fooled.

* * *

Claire's trail wasn't too hard to find. Aside from a single still-undead zombie, which Tony had put down with a single stroke from Woozy, the platinum-haired man had found several more now-truly dead zombie dog bodies on the street just outside of an empty basketball court. Cutting through the court, and back onto the street to get around a barricade of parked cars, the boy paused when he heard loud barking and the sound of wood rattling.

Hopping over a car to get around the long bus, Tony arrived at the end of the street, a tall building behind a colorfully-painted wooden gate just ahead, where three undead dogs were scrabbling and slamming themselves against the wooden barrier. Rolling his eyes in aggravation, the youth ran towards the cannibal canines, but soared over them and the locked gate doors in a single leap, landing evenly in the courtyard, the undead dogs' frenzied scrabbling pausing momentarily in confusion.

"Gettin' real sick of all these stupid zombies... Heh, never thought I'd ever say that," he mused to himself, his hands slipping into his coat's pockets as he marched for the entrance of the orphanage.

Claire and Sherry were inside, and so was that asshole Irons. And, _boy,_ was Tony eager to give that creep a lesson in chivalry... _Very_ eager.

"No one puts their hands on my girl, and gets away with it..." he whispered darkly, his eyes flashing between blue and gold once again.

Stepping inside the orphanage foyer, the young man noted the staircase, various toys, and stuffed animals before his view fell on the front desk, a smashed door directly at its left, with a thin trail of blood emerging from around it. Approaching it and stepping through the gap, arriving in a narrow red hallway, Tony headed for a right turn, and was about to take another when he spotted a large, blood-covered body at the end of the corridor. Frowning, he quickly closed the distance between himself and the corpse, his eyes widening when he saw the source of the blood.

"_Yeesh..._ Somebody call Ridley Scott," the merc in red murmured as he observed the gaping hole in the fat man's rotund abdomen, the pale, shattered edges of his ribcage just visible under the blood and viscera.

Tony looked up at the man's face, wincing at the sight of the inflamed and burned left side, before spotting a bloody I.D. badge on the dead man's breast pocket. One word was visible under the blood: Irons.

"_Tch..._ Looks like something beat me to your fat ass..." Claire Redfield's boyfriend uttered in partial disappointment.

Giving the fat man's body one last contempt-filled glare, he stepped over the corpse - swatting away the body's limp, outstretched left hand with his left foot a little more roughly than was needed - and headed for the open door behind it. Tony arrived in a thoroughly-trashed office space. While he briefly glanced at the blue-skinned body of a dead blonde by an overturned table, his attention was quickly drawn to an open hatch in the far back of the room.

Moving closer to it, the young man could faintly hear two voices, but instantly recognized one of them as Claire's. Relief flooding through him, he dropped through the hatch, landing on the concrete floor of a basement with a loud *_crash._* Quickly pushing himself up, he descended the short incline leading deeper into the basement, and once he was at the bottom, spotted Claire standing protectively in front of the young blonde girl he had first seen in the power plant under the police station: the presumed Sherry.

Upon seeing him, Claire's own face filled with relief. "_Tony!_"

His girlfriend ran over to him, giving him a heavy embrace. The taller man reciprocated the hug, his eyes closing as he felt a weight on his heart fall away.

She was safe. They _both_ were.

When the two pulled away, the young biker girl looked him over with obvious concern as she hurriedly asked, "Are you okay? How did you get away from that monster in the coat?"

Her boyfriend shrugged casually, replying, "I'm fine, babe. I already took care of that ugly S.O.B. He won't be chasing after us anytime soon."

Looking past her, he observed the child huddling back, wringing her hands as he smiled at her while speaking to Claire, "At least you finally found the kid, and you're both safe and sound. That's all that matters. Now whaddya say we find ourselves a way outta this dump, huh?"

The couple then walked over to Sherry, who looked up at the taller man in a kind of awe as the older woman gestured to him. "Sherry, this is my friend, Anthony Redgrave. He's been helping me find a way out of Raccoon City."

Tony nodded at the little girl, smiling while saying, "Just call me Tony. Sorry for slowing down your escape, little lady."

The twelve-year-old smiled back at, nodding and murmuring, "Hi."

Claire looked back to the white-haired man before asking, "So what now?"

He met her gaze before rubbing his chin, replying, "Streets are still crawling with zombies. It's not safe for us, let alone Sherry..."

His blue eyes noticed a long corridor to their left, leading further into the basement. He could make out a stairway at its end as well, making him cock a brow, and turn his full attention to it.

"Let's see where this leads."

Sherry nodded, and quickly scampered ahead, Claire following her after while Tony brought up the rear.

As they reached the stairs and started to descend them, he looked to the younger Redfield and asked, "How're you lookin' on ammo?"

Claire held up the machine gun he had given to her in the S.T.A.R.S. Office. "One clip left for this." Then she let it fall back to her side while indicating the grenade launcher over her shoulder. "One spare round for that." She then drew her revolver. "And about twenty rounds left for this."

She holstered it, and drew the large Ruger Blackhawk Tony had given her earlier, handing it back to him by the handle before snarking, "You know, you never reloaded this for me."

Chuckling, her partner took the gun, his hands rummaging through his coat, producing the box of nine-millimeter bullets he had found in the holding cells of the police station, before giving it to Claire, then reloading the large black revolver with the spare .45 rounds he had. Redgrave returned the Ruger to Redfield, along with six extra cartridges for it as well, just in case.

Taking the heavy gun back and holstering it, she inquired back, "How about you?"

The gunslinger did a quick mental count of all the ammo he had used on both the eyeball monster and the wasted rounds on the monster in black. Resisting an annoyed growl, he replied, "Couple clips left for my handguns, maybe over a dozen shotgun shells, and seven rounds in the Magnum, plus a backup clip."

Claire nodded, speaking again as they arrived at the bottom of the steps. "Not too great, then."

"But not too hopeless," he countered, his eyes glancing back at Woozy's hilt just visible over his shoulder.

"_Over here!_" Sherry suddenly called, having vanished around a corner. The couple upped their pace, following where the small preteen had vanished.

They arrived in an open lobby with several open gaps beneath a metal railway, deep darkness lurking below them. The child was standing by an elevator booth, the shutter door already pulled back.

Claire glanced at Tony, who was peering over the railway's side into the darkness below. "Where do you suppose it goes?"

The man was quiet for a moment, his mind recalling Agent Ada's earlier advice. "Hmm... Sewers, more than likely." He looked back to the woman, meeting her eyes as he spoke. "That might be the safest way outta the city. Not the cleanest escape route, but it's not like we've got a lotta options."

His girlfriend only nodded, starting after the child while saying, "Well, it can't be much worse than everything else we've run into."

That prompted a dry chuckle from Tony, who was about to follow behind her-

-when he realized he heard rapid steps just behind him, prompting Sherry to suddenly scream out in fright.

Claire whirled around, her grey-blue eyes wide as saucers as she screamed his name "_TONY!_"

Suddenly, Tony felt like he had been punched in the back, fiery agony erupting from two spots on his chest, the horrible sound of flesh tearing accompanying the pain. His vision blurred as splashes of red erupted from his chest, dark puddles of blood forming on the railway below him. For a moment, the young man wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened. Then, something caught the edge of his vision: a dull white and red.

Glancing down, he saw the source of the painful agony tearing through his torso. Two long, bloody claws were jutting out of two gaping, bloody holes in his abdomen. He only had a moment to contemplate them when he became aware of a pained groaning behind him, and he could hear both Claire and Sherry still screaming. Suddenly, Tony found himself hoisted up off his feet, fresh sparks of searing pain ripping through his chest from the sudden momentum, before he was harshly thrown aside in a spray of blood and tearing flesh.

He could hear his beloved cry out his name, despair and pain evident in her tone. "_TONYYY!_"

The crimson-coated, severely wounded man collapsed against the floor in a bloody heap, unable to move, his breath gone, the air in his lungs replaced with blood. His eyes caught sudden movement, and he saw the monster he had fought off in the power plant, but different. The shape of its body had changed, charging towards the elevator with a furious roar.

Sherry's voice screamed, "_DADDY, NO!_"

Then the beast collided with elevator cart, sparks flying, metal tearing, both girls screaming out in fright.

The sound of their terror prompted his body to move on its own, Woozy drawn out, Tony Redgrave's own eyes widening with horror as the elevator cart began to plunge down into the shadows below, the creature grappling it plunging with it.

The young, stubborn, determined swordsman dashed after it, all thoughts of pain gone as he screamed, **"_NOOO!_"**

Down, down into the dark abyss below, the only sound emerging from it were the fading screams of two terrified humans, a furious beast... and a demonic howl of rage.

* * *

(Looks at calendar)

Hey it's only been...105 days since the last update! That's not _that_ bad.

Okay it's pretty bad. The holidays, followed by FOUR birthdays (Only one of which was mine) kept me busy and drained. But, I bounced back after getting some anon reviews (One calling me a POS, the other defending me) and I finally finished this chapter! Shoutout and to props to Da-Awesom-One for his patience and continued support as my beta/co-author/editor.

Next chapter is called "Killer Queen", and we're gonna take a break from Tony and Claire and see what Ada has been up to, along with our mysterious friend Gilver. Will it take me three months to finish again? Hell if I now at this point.

Thank you to everyone who's read/reviewed/faved/followed this story.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Killer Queen

* * *

The sound of footfalls repeating over the metal walkway were drowned out by the heavy sloshing of sewage-filled water, and the furious, snarling, hiss-like roar of a hungry beast, which morphed into a ravenous roar. The dirty sewage waste splashed wildly through the air as the enormous, scaled body of the ravenous monster chased the coated form of the federal agent known only as Ada Wong, before leaping through the air, its long jaws snapping open, and missing her by scant inches.

The rows of its dirty, stained teeth instead crunched down on the railway she was running across. The massive beast, a huge, dark-scaled alligator grown to titanic and impossible proportions, collapsed back into the sewage water, sending waves of filth splashing about as it spat out the ruined metal, hissing as its bright green eyes found the woman once more, its long body resuming slinking through the dirty sludge after her.

Ada's eyes, hidden under her dark sunglasses, remained focused on the path ahead, her small sidearm drawn and gripped tightly in her right hand. While the Mauser was light, easy to conceal, and perfect for dispatching infected viral carriers - human or otherwise - the small bullets had bounced uselessly off of the huge form of the infected alligator she had the unfortunate luck of stumbling across once she reached a deeper network of sluices under Raccoon City.

As she had passed through the upper pipeline passages, the whole area had shook twice, the tremors feeling like a small earthquake... That was, until she had watched something among the piles of garbage and waste _slither_ away, taking a good portion of the mound of waste and junk it had been hidden under and itself deeper into the shadows, an ungodly growl warning anything too close to get away, and fast. Ada had ignored that warning, figuring the upper walkways she would use to venture further would keep her from the creature's reach, and well out of harm's way.

_So much for __**that**__ idea..._ her mind bitingly seethed as she continued running ahead, ignoring the sounds of splashing and of the metal pathway just a few precious feet behind her crumpling under the powerful bite of the viral alligator.

She was almost to the junction that would take her to an elevator deeper into the sewers, closer to her goal. But the gargantuan reptile was hot on her heels, and incessantly persistent, unwilling to let up until her warm flesh was in its gullet...

A set of stairs were just ahead, leading down to the next walkway that would take her to her destination. If she lived long enough to get to them, that is. Behind her, the agent could hear the sounds of the alligator splashing through the sewage increase in tempo, and could imagine the beast charging forth, its jaws opening wide to swallow her whole-

She reached the stairs, but instead of starting to descend them, she jumped, sailing down onto the next walkway with a loud *clang,* the woman tucking herself into a tight ball, and rolling with the impact. Behind her, a wave of sewer water gushed down a steep incline as the mutant alligator leapt after its meal, jaws open... and crunching down on a large gas fuel canister built just above the slope. The beast bit down into the metal canister, small lines of flame issuing out of the breached metal, the hiss of gas undertone to the creature's angry snarls and growls.

Rising back up with her arms crossed, Ada couldn't resist the pleased smirk that formed on her lips. Even through her sunglasses and the heavy darkness in the sewer passage, she easily recognized the familiar bright yellow and red warning painted across the fuel canister. Raising her arms out, gripping her pistol with both hands, she lined her shot, while her hidden gaze met one of the alligator's beady green eyes.

A single loud *_BAM,_* followed by a softer *_tink_* of metal striking metal-

Both drowned out by the thunderous blast of the exploding gas line. Flaming shrapnel struck the brick and mortar walls of the sewer passage, a few patches of waste catching light as well, while the long body of the virally-infected alligator, now missing the entirety of its long snout and head, slid slowly down the incline, a waterfall of dark blood and bits of scaled flesh following it.

Lowering her weapon, the woman gave the beast one final look over before saying, "Chew on that, you overgrown gecko."

Satisfied, she holstered her Mauser, and made for the entrance to the passageway that would take her to the elevator she needed to get closer to her target. Before moving on, she paused, glancing down at her feet, raising her right, then her left, checking the long heels of her pumps to make sure one of them hadn't snapped off. Satisfied, she looked back, and as she did, happened to glance at the alligator's remains one last time, noting with impression that dead reptile's body and tail were so long, it was unable to properly slide all the way down to the bottom of the sewer line below.

She had been warned of the t-Strain's adverse effects on potential local fauna, but aside from a few aggressive dogs and the occasional skinless mutations - Lickers, she remembered, the name coming from an officer's report calling them as such - she had not been overly impressed by the virus's effects. While the alligator had definitely benefited from t's unusual ability to increase a subject's size, its choice of habitat had limited its ability to hunt effectively. And while she wasn't a scientist, the agent would imagine even Umbrella's researchers would have been disappointed how easily dispatched the beast was by a comparatively small explosion.

A part of her wondered how such an animal had even found its way down here in the first place, but she wasn't getting to paid to find that out, and it didn't matter anyway. It was dead, and she was on the clock.

Stepping into the new passageway - the air staler, but no longer suffocating and oversaturated with the stench of sewage waste, letting her breath easier - Wong turned the next corner, and began following the line of electric lights fixed into the walls. If she remembered her layout brief right, the elevator that would take her to the basement levels of Raccoon City's sewers, where the city officials worked... and where Umbrella had set up a cable car transport to their NEST facility for their staff, built deep underneath Raccoon City in a limestone cavern that had been discovered before the initial construction began.

_With any luck, I won't even need to go to the NEST... Annette's probably scrounging around somewhere down here,_ she thought to herself. One could only hope. While she didn't want to complain, what was supposed to have been an easy job had turned into quite the colossal headache.

The agent rounded the last corner, and was greeted with the sight of the elevator, the gate already opened and waiting for her. Stepping inside, she pressed the only button, prompting the gate to close shut, and the cart to shudder to life, beginning its descent down for the basement levels. Having found a rare moment to think to herself, the woman leaned against one of the cart's walls, rolling her neck and shoulders with a sigh, her mind wandering.

Her original plan had been simple enough: Feed intel to the reporter about Irons' corruption. Have him drill Annette for information on her husband's new viral agent. And once Bertolucci found something useful, like say the location of Birkin's samples, she would give him Irons' financial records as payment. Ben would get his expose, and Ada would get a sample of the new G-Virus strain.

Information on the new virus was scarce, with only word of mouth to go on from what few people who knew anything about it had to say, emphasis on _few._ Umbrella wasn't risking any information leaks. Anyone who worked on the G Project and left had simply vanished. If she had to guess where, more than likely shipped off to another Umbrella research facility... as Test Subject A, B, or C.

What was confirmed was it had a higher mutation strength than the t-Strain, and that, once finished, would create bio-weapons that made everything produced by the t-Virus obsolete in comparison.

Ada's mission was simple: Retrieve G-Virus sample.

The agent scoffed to herself.

Simple. _Right._

That had been back when it was just a snatch job. Now? Now, it was anything _but_ simple, the t-Virus outbreak having complicated matters as thoroughly as it had infected Raccoon's unlucky populace.

Ada had arrived in Raccoon City a day or so before the city had become completely sealed off, and much of her time afterwards had been spent searching for Ben in hopes he would have had any new information to give to her. Unfortunately for her, and even more so for Ben, one of Umbrella's cleaners had gotten to him first. She had only really looked at his body once, but she could still see his crushed, bloody skull and dislodged eye in her mind's eye...

She shook that thought off. Ben was dead. Unfortunate, but also a total loss and waste of time. The man had failed to come through with any new information. Now, here she was, scrambling to catch up to Annette Birkin, the only other lead left to a G-Virus sample.

Annette wasn't the creator of the G-Strain, of course. That honor belonged to her husband, Umbrella's golden boy and top scientist, William Birkin. Ada recalled skimming through the file created by her contact and supplier of the mission. He had apparently known William for almost two decades, and the file was sound and informative. She knew Birkin was a genius based on his accomplishments through research of Umbrella's Progenitor and t-Virus strains, and the creator of several of their more successful B.O.W.s...

Birkin was also a very clear narcissistic sociopath, based on how many people he had sacrificed in the name of his research. But the male Birkin was a dead-end. He had vanished in late September, though no effort had been made to locate him once the disaster in Raccoon became too prominent to ignore.

Wong cocked her head in thought as the elevator continued its descent. Her mission handler had seen the outbreak in the city as their chance to seize a G-sample, but much like with the whereabouts of the husband Birkin, no real effort had been made to discover the source of the outbreak, save possible contamination into the city's drinking water. Another factor that made William's disappearance so strange was that recovered email files had detailed his near completion of the G-Strain. From what she had read on the doctor's file, once the G-Virus had been completed and turned over to Umbrella, he would have become a member of the board of directors, which was one of the highest positions within the company, under old man Spencer himself.

The woman rubbed her chin, her thoughts continuing to sift through the pieces of the puzzle that was the scientist's disappearance. Could Umbrella have eliminated him? It didn't seem likely. The man was a genius, and he had been with the company for over twenty years. Killing your top scientist was bad for business, especially after the S.T.A.R.S. disaster in July. Umbrella had lost two facilities in as many days, hundreds of millions of dollars in equipment, workers, and specimens gone in two massive explosions. Losing Birkin would have just made the situation that much worse for them.

But now, this disaster in Raccoon City?... _This_ was the big one. There would be no recovering for Umbrella after this.

Still, the most important question remained: Was this outbreak an accident... or _intentional?_

The cart shook softly as it reached its destination, coming to a stop before the gated door slid open automatically. Glancing at the open doorway, Ada pushed herself off the wall, striding out into the new basement level, noting the various pipes and power boxes affixed to the walls. As she did, she internally reached a conclusion to her earlier thoughts.

_It doesn't matter. None of it does. My job is to find the sample, and get out. Not play detective._

It wasn't a happy reminder, but one she needed. The outbreak had claimed thousands of lives, but there was nothing she could do about it. All that mattered was finishing this, and then getting out alive.

Spotting another doorway just ahead to her left and down a little ways a small set of steps, Ada advanced onward, absently drawing her small sidearm as she did. Arriving at the iron barred door, the woman nudged it open with the barrel of her Mauser, her hidden eyes scanning for any trace of movements. Asides from a small table with various items strewn atop it, as well as other objects littering the room, there was nothing inside.

Pushing the door open entirely and stepping inside, the agent glanced back over her shoulder into the previous room. There was of course, nothing in there, but you didn't last long in this field of work without a little proper paranoia. She always ran her jobs solo, confident in her skills and abilities to handle herself safely, but having someone to watch your back in a kill zone like Raccoon City wouldn't have been too much of a hassle.

_Like that blabbermouth I ran into in the parking deck. He seemed to know how to handle a gun... and a sword, oddly enough... Would've been useful to have as alligator bait... _That dark thought almost made her smirk and chuckle, but she kept her face neutral, and fought the humor down.

That guy, Tony Redgrave she recalled, had been a strange one, indeed, carrying a sword as long as he was into this living horror flick. Yet she had seen him moments before mocking an undead dog, and smacking it aside with said weapon with all the finesse of a baseball player at pitch nailing a home run. His chattiness and his prying questions aside, she wouldn't have minded having him watching her back down here.

But he had declined her offer to go off and find his girlfriend, who was lost somewhere in the station. It was such a shame. They both were probably long dead by now, especially if she was right about just what exactly Ben's killer had been.

Shaking the thoughts off, she ventured further into the room, approaching the next door on the other end. Ada pushed it open, listening to the rusty hinges squeak in protest... and a woman's voice murmuring softly just under it.

"Definitely William's handiwork..."

The agent recognized the voice instantly. Her body reacted automatically, shoving the door all the way open, and charging out. She drew out her handgun, holding it out with both hands, tightly grasping the handle as her hidden eyes found her target, the barrel of the weapon leveling out a second later. There, crouched on the floor by the body of a zombie, was her target.

"Annette Birkin."

At the sound of her name, the blonde woman glanced away from the body she was observing, turning her tired blue-green eyes to Ada's hidden ones, before returning her gaze back to the corpse, indifferent to the intruder. The agent kept her handgun drawn on the female scientist, noting how dirty and tattered her disheveled blonde hair looked, as well as the stains along her white lab coat and gray blouse, her jeans caked with splashes of blood and dirty sewage water as well. The woman was far away from her clean and sterile lab, but that was fortunate for Ada. It had saved her the trouble of tracking her down any further.

"Not much time..." the researcher mumbled to herself as she rose back up, her eyes never wavering from the zombie's body.

The armed woman chanced a glance from behind her shades. She wasn't sure why Annette was so preoccupied with this particular undead. It didn't look any different from the other ghouls in the city above, their clothes bloodstained, their flesh gray and rotting, though there were strange scratches around the bloody lips, along with a few thin black lines of a fluid too dark to be blood leaking from the corners as well.

"Need to dispose of it..." the other woman stated aloud, her voice snapping Ada out of her thoughts.

She couldn't afford to lose her train of thought. Not at this juncture. Her target was less than ten feet away, and potentially the only person left alive in Raccoon City who knew where the G-Virus samples were.

"I'm here for the G-Virus!" she declared, making her intentions clear.

That seemed to catch the female scientist's attention. She looked over to the agent, her expression one of disbelief, before scoffing mockingly, sneering back at her and her weapon, seemingly unafraid. But Ada saw a flicker in the other woman's eyes. One she knew all too well.

Panic.

"That's not gonna happen," Birkin retorted, her cocky smirk betraying the fear Wong knew she had to be feeling.

The agent took a single step forward, her handgun held steady, and aimed to put a bullet between the lady's eyes at a moment's notice. "I'm warning you, doctor."

And it was the only one she'd get.

Once again, the scientist scoffed.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, while her right hand discreetly slipped into her jean's pocket. A second later, a soft *_clink_* sounded, breaking the tense silence.

Ada blinked, recognizing the sound of a lighter igniting. Then she realized there was another smell under the stench of the rotting body of the zombie, this one also very familiar.

Gasoline.

Before she could react, Annette tossed the burning lighter at the corpse, the body igniting almost instantly, consumed in bright yellow and orange flames. Unable to help herself, the younger woman's gaze snapped towards the now ignited corpse, and Birkin seized her chance, quickly twisting around, and fleeing down a corridor to her right. Collecting herself and hissing a curse under her breath, Wong gave chase, arriving at the junction in a quick dash-

*_BAM! BAM!_*

Two gunshots, one after another, missed the agent by bare inches. Exclaiming a curse, Ada flung herself across the floor as another bullet flew overhead, missing her by precious centimeters. As she landed harshly on the cement floor, her sunglasses flew off, vanishing into the heavy shadows on the ground.

Down the corridor she had fled to, Annette Birkin lowered her smoking handgun, and dashed through the gap in the huge, closing gated door, her eyes flashing manically as she screamed, "_You'll never get the G-Virus!_"

Snapping back up, her jaw grinding down in fury over her reckless chase after the woman scientist, Wong squeezed off two shots of her own, but by then, the huge door was almost fully closed, the rounds bouncing off of its solid steel surface uselessly. Running up to the door, the female agent was infuriated to see no visible means of re-opening it, cutting her off from the Birkin woman. Slipping her sidearm back into its holster, the agent glared at the door, resisting the urge to slam her fist or foot against the strong metal surface.

"_Shit!_" she hissed, which satisfied her anger, if only for the moment. Turning back, she moved back for the junction where the smoldering body of the zombie lay while murmuring, "Didn't expect that from a scientist..."

She could only hope to find another means of following her target on the other side-

-when she stopped, her brown eyes falling on the sizzling body of the zombie. At first, she thought Annette's pyrotechnics on the corpse had woken it back up, like a few of the viral carriers she had encountered in the police station that had a habit of 'playing dead.' The corpse's torso was jerking and twitching as the body burned, but the limbs only shifted slightly in response to the body's movements.

Ada blinked. Wait, did that mean... there was something _inside _the body?

Her answer made itself known a moment later. The abdomen of the carrier's corpse burst in a small splatter of coagulated blood, as _something_ weakly struggled to pull itself free from the body. The woman actually found herself flinching back a step as she watched whatever it was, as black and burned as the corpse that served as its host, slowly ceased its struggles, a weak high-pitch cry emitting from it before it went still, only halfway jutting out of the smoldering body.

For a moment, she simply stared at the strange burned creature, her mind racing, grasping to understand what it was exactly.

_Some new kind of new B.O.W. parasite? That can't be... Umbrella's French division is the only faculty working on anything like that, and those are __**brain**__ parasites. This thing's too big, and in the wrong part of the body... So what the hell is it?_

She moved a step closer to the limp corpse, studying the burned parasite for another moment before looking back at the closed vault door the doctor had fled through.

_Definitely William's handiwork...?_

Annette had mumbled those words while observing the body before lighting it afire, presumably to dispose of the corpse. But now she understood that the doctor had really been trying to prevent this thing from being 'born,' so to speak. Still, 'William's handiwork' kept floating in her mind. Ada narrowed her gaze in thought.

_Could these parasites be linked to the outbreak in some way?... Could Birkin be responsible for all of this?_

It was a definite possibility. Some of the hacked emails recovered from the good doctor's private account had the man expressing his frustrations with the sudden pressure from the top of the company, seemingly demanding Birkin's new synthesis so they could market it, hoping to use the sales to recover from the financial losses of the Spencer Mansion Incident. Unsurprisingly, William was also a perfectionist, and his rants in his email files repeatedly stated he would only turn his G-Virus over once he felt is was truly completed, and under the condition he receive full credit for the project.

In that sense, Ada could almost understand. Birkin had sunk almost a decade of his life into the G-Virus Project; a significant amount of time he would never get back. And if he knew Umbrella was trying to screw him over... Would he have let Raccoon City descend into pandemonium to escape with what he felt was rightfully his?

Before she could give it any more thought, a gentle series of soft *_beeps_* sounded from the inside of her coat. The woman's eyes flickered down, her right hand slipping inside one of her coat's interior pockets. A second later, she produced a compact handheld radio: a more advanced model of anything available on the commercial market, and perhaps a few years ahead of most military types as well. Even several hundred feet underground, through miles of concrete, asphalt, lead, and other layers of stone and metal capable of blocking out radio transmissions, this one would always sync up with her contact.

Ada held the radio close to her face, just a little way from her ear. From the speaker box of the radio, a deep, cultured voice spoke.

_"Report."_

"I'm right outside the facility, in pursuit of Annette," was her response after hitting the transmit button.

She hadn't worked with this contact on many jobs before... but just picturing the man in his dark business suit, eyes hidden behind those ever-present sunglasses, was enough to make her tense up. There were _very_ few people in this line of work who could inspire such a feeling inside her... but he was one of them.

Releasing the transmit switch, she held the radio closer to her ear, waiting.

_"Can you confirm she has the sample?"_

"If it's not on her, it must be in the NEST," Ada answered, glancing at the burned carrier's body once again, her eyes falling on the cooked parasite hanging out of its guts as she waited for a response.

"_The clock is ticking. Our window is closing._"

_Yeah, no shit,_ she scathingly thought, but bit her tongue.

Mouthing off to this man was tantamount to suicide, but he was right. The U.S. government wasn't sitting on their hands while she scrambled to recover the sample. Sooner or later, they would have to act to contain the outbreak, and that meant only one thing:

Sterilization.

"Once it's in hand, I'll call for extraction," she assured the voice over the radio.

It wasn't much of a placation, but it seemed to satisfy him. The little blue light on the radio ceased glowing, indicating the transmission had ended.

Feeling the tension ease out of her body, Ada lowered the radio, slipping it back inside her coat, once more looking at the parasitized body of the carrier, her thoughts returning to her earlier questioning over who exactly was responsible for unleashing the t-Virus on Raccoon's unsuspecting populace. Then she looked away, casting the question aside. There would be time to ponder it later, _if_ there was a later. Right now she had a job to do.

And like the man had said, the clock was ticking.

"You can run, Annette, but you can't hide..." she murmured aloud as she stormed down the last corridor in the hallway, her eyes falling on a peculiar sight. A long service ladder underneath a large hydraulic fan, and behind the fan an access shaft to the next area of the sewage management plant.

Perhaps it wouldn't take her directly to her quarry, but it would get her closer to the scientist all the same. Still, there was now the new problem of getting around said hydraulic fan, which, even off as it currently was, was still too large to just squeeze through. The agent's brown eyes scanned the wall to her right, noting a small locked electronic panel.

With a smirk, she reached under coat, and into a second, smaller holster under her Mauser. From it, she produced what resembled a handgun grip, with a small, blue-lensed end, and a digital readout on the side.

"Secret weapon time," Ada declared as she aligned the end of the 'EMF Visualizer' the techs had labeled the small device as.

Its primary purpose was discovering an electronic device's main power source, and as she gently squeezed down on the trigger of the device, the panel it was pointed it at came to life with a few beeps, a second later, the hydraulic fan above her began spinning to life. Still smirking, the agent squeezed tighter down on the Visualizer's trigger.

The effect began to become apparent as the panel began to smoke and spark, while the fan it was connected too began to spin faster, faster, and faster, until finally-

*_BOOM!_*

Stepping back to avoid the worst of the exploding metal and shrapnel, Ada holstered the Visualizer while moving towards the ladder, declaring, "Candy from a baby."

The main purpose of the EMF Visualizer was to find the power source of any electronic device, hack into it, then overload its circuits. So far in Raccoon, she hadn't had any real chance to use it, but that was about to change. She recalled the warning from the tech boys that it wouldn't work on every electronic device, and there was a distinct possibility that any tech in the NEST may be shielded from electronic overloads.

Still, she wouldn't even _need_ to go to the NEST if she caught up with her target, and retrieved the G-sample from her.

Climbing up the ladder, Ada arrived in the large access shaft, and began moving through it quickly, arriving at the end in no time, before noting with disgust a swarm of overgrown cockroaches flickering about around the single light bulb hanging over a second hydraulic fan. Wrinkling her nose and resisting the urge to flinch away from the disgusting insects, the woman drew the EMF Visualizer back out, and peered through its small sight.

The world turned partially blue and somewhat see-through through the dirty metal walls, and the agent quickly found the power line connecting the fan to its power source: another electronic panel down and further along the wall of the room it was overlooking. A tight squeeze on the device's trigger sent the fan spinning to life, blowing the unlucky roaches next to it away, a few of the disgusting things torn to shreds once the fan blades they had been crawling along spun rapidly to life.

Stepping back, the woman increased the power flowing into the fan, making it explode in short order like its sibling, the shrapnel expelling itself into the next room instead of anywhere near her, thankfully. Holstering the Visualizer, Ada peered down into the new room, noting nothing of importance save a lone table, and the body of a sewer worker in dark coveralls laying in the corner near the only door. Crouching, then hopping down in short order, no sooner had she landed did the body groan hungrily, the corpse's pale, noseless and bloody face turning up towards the sound of the noise.

Without even acknowledging the body so much a proper look, the agent drew her sidearm, and squeezed the trigger twice, one bullet finding the hole where the carrier's nose had been, the other through one of its bloodshot eyes. The body promptly went still without another sound. Ejecting her handgun's clip as she strode towards the door, she counted a single round left, quickly chambering it before ejecting the empty clip to slap a fresh one in.

When she had first arrived in Raccoon, she had only brought three clips of ammunition with her, later looting the bodies of any dead officer she had come across for more ammo, so that was no longer any concern of hers, though she still tried to sneak around any virus carriers she'd happen to come across. They were slow and dumb, the t-Virus only reviving the parts of the brain that needed to move and feed. So long as you avoided them in large numbers and/or getting cornered, they were easy enough to elude without wasting ammunition.

Shoving the door open, Ada had arrived in the main power room of the treatment plant, specifically a long metal railway a floor above it. Keeping her Mauser drawn and at her side, she quickly moved along the pathway, finding a descending set of stairs to her right. Moving down them quickly, the woman's eyes shot up when she heard a virus carrier snarling somewhere in the heavy shadows, but near enough to get her moving just a bit faster.

She had no idea how many were down here, and the darkness in the many corners were too thick and too deep to risk venturing into. Thankfully, there was a service lift just to her left-

"Are you kidding me?" she murmured to herself upon seeing the power light was a bright red, indicating there was not enough power for the lift to function.

Behind her, another hungry groan echoed, followed by shuffling footsteps. With an annoyed sign, the armed woman quickly ran ahead, but her movement came to an abrupt stop when she saw another virus carrier ahead of her, a rather tall and heavyset one. A civilian, if their bloodstained clothes were anything to go by.

Back where she came from, the shuffling footsteps were getting closer, as was the wave of an awful stench that was a body in the stages of heavy decomposition. Acting fast, Ada drew up her handgun, holding the grip with both hands, and squeezed off a single shot, nailing the approaching zombie directly on the forehead in a brief flash of fire and splatter of blood. The ghoul stumbled back, giving her the perfect chance to dash ahead of it, though she quickly cursed under her breath when she didn't hear it fall down. It only groaned, and began staggering after her, joined by the one that had been coming from behind.

_Not a problem. Just need to get ahead, find a safe distance, and then dispatch them,_ she told herself, following a series of emergency lights deeper into the plant. She just needed to find a power line. Then she could use the EMF Visualizer to hack into it, and divert the necessary power to get the lift back on.

In moments, she arrived at an open space, where a small alcove was overlooking a yawning pit, and in another corner a pile of containers were situated. Wong spotted the power panel situated along the wall overlooking the pit, and for a moment, felt like her luck was turning around.

Then, from above, another virus carrier plunged over the railing above with a heavy *_thump,_* a hungry groan emitting from it as it rose back up on unsteady legs, a shard of bloody bone emerging from its right shoulder, the useless limb hanging at its side while its left reached out, grasping for her. Behind it, a female undead emerged from the shadows, hissing as its cataract-coated eyes fell on the only living human. And behind the agent, the shuffling steps of the zombies from earlier were getting louder, their groans eager.

"_Fuck..._" she hissed to herself, backing up several steps for the alcove.

She was surrounded. Like a rank amateur, she had allowed herself to get too overconfident. And now here she was, trapped and cornered like a rat. The agent raised her handgun up, the barrel quickly moving back and forth between the approaching swarm of undead.

Between the ghoul with the broken arm and the woman behind it, along with the earlier two, now joined by a third, she had five virus carriers to dispatch, the window to do so shrinking by the second. The Mauser carried seven rounds, but thanks to whatever mutation had occurred in this particular strain of the t-Virus, these carriers weren't always dispatched by a lone shot to the head, usually requiring at minimum two additional rounds to ensure complete termination.

_I've survived worse,_ Ada reminded herself, though she was hard pressed to remember when exactly.

Then, her eyes narrowed suddenly. There was a sound underneath the droning groan of the small horde of undead closing in on her.

Like... rushing air.

Before she could snap out of her surprise, a dark blur descended from the ceiling, accompanied by a rasp of metal drawing out. Silver flashes undertoned with sparks of white lashed out, the strange rushing air sound mixed with swinging steel, and quieter wet sounds. Instantly, each of the approaching undead all went still and silent.

The woman blinked, her eyes wide, mouth partially agape when she saw the source of the sounds.

Appearing in front of her was the crouched form of a figure in all black, their head and hands swaddled in bandages, the right gripping tightly the hilt of a shining sword, an eastern katana, while the left gripped its lacquered black sheathe. The figure rose from their crouch, and Ada saw by the broadness of their shoulders - along with the fact they were a full head taller than her - that it was a man.

The bandaged man twirled his drawn sword, flicking drops of dark blood off the pristine surface of the sword. Then, his left hand moved behind his back, while his right rose over his shoulder, sheathing the weapon in a single motion behind his shoulders. When the hilt of the sword connected with the sheathe in a gentle *_click-_*

-Each of the viral carrier's bodies began to slide neatly apart. Arms fell off, legs gave away, torsos split, and heads fell apart as dozens of thin lines appeared along their bodies. In moments, chunks of neatly-cut undead meat collapsed along the floor with thick wet sounds, and splatters of diseased blood. For a long moment, there was only silence.

Then, the tall, mysterious man in black turned in a slow, single motion, and the female agent's shocked brown orbs met his darker blue gaze. The swordsman glared down on her, his intense gaze narrowing before drifting lower, eyeing the small handgun momentarily before returning his cold stare to the woman's face. She kept the gun up, trained on the stranger's face, her mind racing.

_What the hell was that?! What in the world just happened?!_

Five virus carriers, all chopped into deli pieces. Ada hadn't seen the man's sword even _touch_ a single one of the walking corpses, but she saw the blood drops he had flicked off the sword, meaning he must have been the one responsible... And yet, she had only seen him fall from somewhere above, not even swinging the sword in the direction of the undead before sheathing it. So _how...?_

...Unless...

_...Unless he swung the sword so fast, I __**couldn't**__ keep up with it..._

_No..._ That kind of speed... Nothing human could move that fast. It had to have been some kind of trick... With razor wire, perhaps-

"Do you intend to hold me at gunpoint for the time being?..." the bandaged swordsman asked, his deep voice voice muffled by the paper straps wrapped tightly over his mouth, the gauze crinkling as he spoke. His tone was dry, and Ada detected just a slight hint of mockery, as if the idea of having a loaded gun pointed at his face was just the funniest thing. "Or are you going to put it away at some point in the foreseeable future?... Some time _today,_ perhaps?"

His taunting words sent a spark of irritation through her, and she pulled the hammer of the Mauser back, hoping the sound of the soft *_click_* would make her point. "Depends... How'd you do that?"

To her continued irritation, he ignored her question, his eyes narrowing in amusement as he glanced down towards the weapon in his hands, before looking back to her again, the corners of the gauze around his mouth crinkling upwards in a hidden sneer. The swordsman slipped his right hand into the pocket of his dark pants, his demeanor completely casual, further frustrating the agent.

"Hm... What an odd way to show your thanks to someone who just saved your life," he mused, his tone still aggravatingly dry and mocking, though his eyes remained locked on her weapon.

Unable to hold back her annoyance any longer, the woman snapped, "I had that under control. I didn't need any help."

The stranger inclined his head slightly, favoring her with a bemused stare. "Is that so?... Five of those disease carriers closing in on you, trapping you in a corner, with only that rather... _puny_ weapon to defend yourself?"

The man regarded her handgun with a contempt-filled glare, and Ada was surprised by the genuine disgust she saw flicker through his intense gaze. Not a fan of guns, then, she noted.

"I suppose you _could_ have walked away from that encounter alive, unaided... though probably not intact," he finished, meeting the woman's eyes again.

The agent struggled not to look away. The bandaged man's eyes were like cold sapphires, completely unreadable, and yet so intense, she also found herself... _intimidated._

Ada Wong was not a woman easily rattled by anything, having been a field operative for almost a full decade... But something about this man was sending alarms ringing through her entire body, the most defining one simple: _Get away._

She needed to change tactics. This newcomer was clearly dangerous, but he hadn't tried to harm her... _Yet._ She needed to find out why.

Reluctantly, she drew her handgun back, letting the hammer fall back. His eyes narrowed, though his body language relaxed slightly. His shoulders loosened just a tad, his fingers flexing over his drawn katana's sheathe before settling in a looser grip.

Keeping her eyes trained on him, exuding a more lax air but keeping her guard up internally, Ada slipped her Mauser under her coat, holstering it while saying, "You know, you're the second person I've seen carrying a sword around tonight."

A muffled scoff issued under the man's breath, his cold eyes flickering in amusement, while his fingers flexed over his sheathe's length again. "...I'm aware. You could say that... Tony Redgrave is the one who led me here."

His response made the woman cock her brow. Had he been spying on them earlier? Was he following her, or that strange man named Tony Redgrave?

Going on, keeping her tone neutral, the agent asked, "Let me guess: that loudmouth's a friend of yours?"

The bandages around the man in black's mouth crinkled again, his sneer returning. "Friend?... No. Let's just say that I'm his... _keeper._"

Then he chuckled lowly, seemingly amused by his own curious wording, which made her frown.

_'__**Keeper?**__' Like a handler? Were these guys also sent to recover the sample?... No. That guy genuinely had no idea about Umbrella, or their viruses... Unless he's a better actor than I thought..._

Her train of thought was interrupted by the mysterious newcomer speaking again. "Why are you here?"

Ada blinked, staring back at the his eyes, still giving off their cold intensity. This time, however, she could feel him scrutinizing her intently as he glared down at her. It was a rather direct question, but could be interpreted in multiple ways if she chose to overthink it. But then she remembered she was on the clock, and the longer she wasted time talking to this strange swordsman, the chances of her target escaping her increased.

Turning her back to the man in indifference, Ada drew the EMF Visualizer back out, quickly locating the power line she needed to divert before replying tersely, "Sorry. That's classified."

"I know that you claim to be an agent from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I know that you are here on an assignment of sorts, no doubt pertaining to the current infestation of disease carriers plaguing this city. And I know that you are tracking down the ones responsible for this crisis."

Upon hearing the man finish his sudden interjection, the woman stopped what she was doing, and snapped back towards him, glaring at him over her shoulder.

He still continued to scrutinize her, no doubt reading her surprise over how he knew such things, and added, "...I learned all of this from Anthony."

Ada's glare only hardened, her eyes narrowing further in suspicion as she queried, "Then why bother asking me that when you already know the answer?"

"Because that is the answer to the question of _what_ you are doing here, not _why,_" he countered, gaze unwavering under her scowl. "You are to bring these perpetrators to justice, according to your superiors. That is what you came here to do. What I'm asking you is _why._ Why are _you_ \- of all people - here?" His bandages crinkled upward, indicating that he was sneering again. "Did you come here out of some misguided delusion of grandeur, or a firm sense of duty? Trying to save the world, are you?"

The agent said nothing, meeting his cold gaze with her fiery glare another moment more before huffing and looking away, raising her hacking tool once more.

"I'm not that naive," she retorted.

The stranger remained silent, watching her all the while, his eyes flickering between the Visualizer in her hand before looking back to her. When Ada finished, she slipped the device back under her coat before turning and moving quickly past the swordsman, whose eyes followed her every movement.

The woman was already almost ten feet away when she heard his footfalls behind her. Aggravated, she whirled around to give the man another glare of her own, though, like before, he simply met and held her gaze, his eyes cold and unreadable.

"I'd prefer to go it alone from here."

The man in black brazenly continued after her, waving his sheathed sword towards the sliced body of one of the virus carriers he had dispatched only moments ago before saying, "As I said before, Tony led me here. I can't simply let you walk alone in such a dangerous place. Not after the impression you left on him. Call it a gentleman's agreement. And besides..."

He took another step towards her, and Ada once more noted the difference in their height, the heavy darkness of the area aiding him in looming over her.

"You have yet to answer my question. Why are you here?"

Unable to stop herself, Ada took a step back, but managed to maintain her glare at him. "I'm the one who should be asking you that."

The stranger remained silent, watching her all the while, his eyes firmly squared directly at her before replying simply, "I had nothing better to do... And Anthony is rather preoccupied at the moment, so I decided that finding you might help me... kill some time."

At the word 'kill,' his fingers flexed over the lacquer of his sheath, the knuckles of his hand issuing a few faint pops. Ada refused to let herself show any kind of reaction to that.

Then, after another moment staring down at each other, she turned away with an annoyed huff, waving her hand before saying, "You wanna follow me? Fine. But you better not slow me down."

She figured the guy could save her the bullets should another swarm of disease carriers get the drop on her like that. If not that, then at least he'd serve as bait.

The bandaged swordsman was silent at that, watching her move ahead before continuing after her, his gait slower than hers, keeping himself a good five feet behind her, though she would have preferred he'd stay at least twice that distance from her.

When she reached the lift, she hit the now-green button. The agent felt the small lift jerk to life, the mechanical gears grinding as it began to ascend. For a moment, Ada almost believed she had reached it faster than the newcomer... but her hopes were shot down when she glanced over her left shoulder, and spotted the dark swordsman standing on the edge of the lift, both hands resting on the pommel of his sword's hilt like a cane, his face forward, but his cold eyes continuing to watch her with the intensity of a hawk.

"Are you going to answer my question?" he inquired as the lift approached the top, his tone still dry and bemused.

Resisting a growl of aggravation, the woman snapped, "How about you tell me who you are first? Isn't it rude for a so-called 'gentleman' to not give a lady their name?"

The man's eyes flashed with amusement, a soft chuckle slipping from his muffled lips. "Fair enough... Call me... Gilver."

_A strange man with a strange name. Why am I not surprised?..._ the coated woman thought to herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Ada Wong. F.B.I.," she responded, figuring that returning the courtesy would shut him up for a minute.

"...So I've heard."

The lift reached the top a moment later, and the woman forgot all about the newcomer, Gilver, and his suspicious remark the moment she saw Annette Birkin through a large glass pane window. The blonde scientist never even saw her pursuer arrive, simply turning a corner into the next room filled with large computer terminals.

The element of surprise might just have returned to her, and the agent couldn't resist whispering to herself, "Got you now."

"Your quarry, I presume?" Gilver inquired behind her, and Ada ignored him momentarily, dashing ahead while drawing her Mauser from its holster.

"Like I told your 'friend,' my mission is to track down the people responsible for this mess," she told him as she moved for the door. "She's one of them."

Even if the other woman slipped into another room, she could only go so far before Ada caught up with her.

_You've always been good at running, Annette. I'll give you that,_ she thought to herself, shoving the door open with her shoulder, and quickly moving in, turning and raising her handgun up-

Only to find the scientist already gone.

Resisting the urge to curse, the agent ran ahead into the room, walking towards the large computer terminals the scientist had slipped between. This time she did groan in growing frustration at the sight of another large vault door similar to the one the other woman had escaped through in their first encounter.

Behind her, Gilver followed at a slower pace, pausing to look towards her as she stomped back into the main part of the corridor. The mysterious swordsman's eyes followed her before returning to gaze down the path she had just walked from. Ada ignored him as he walked up to the vault door, observing it with a cocked head before running his gauze-covered fingers over it.

Not entirely understanding what he was doing, but also somewhat grateful his intense cold gaze was no longer on her, the woman told him, "We can't get through it. We'll have to find another way around it if I'm going to catch up with her."

The strange man was silent for a moment, lowering his hand before peering over his shoulder and saying, "You still haven't answered my question, Agent Wong."

Ada blinked, rounding around, her eyes narrowed as she gave Gilver an incredulous expression, when the whole room shook suddenly, almost causing her to trip.

As she straightened herself and looked back to him, the swordsman was peering past her, raising his empty hand to point before saying, "And it looks like we have an uninvited guest."

Blinking, she turned around to see what he was talking about-

And saw the massive coated form of what could only be Ben Bertolucci's killer. The hulking figure was wrapped up tight in a dark full body coat, its forearms and legs bound tightly with several black belts, its heavy boots stomping across the walkway just outside the room, and its tightly clenched gloved fists each sporting a silvery 'X' banded on the back of its palms. Save for the occasional burned or scorch spot - plus a few cuts - across the coat, it was identical to recovered footage taken at Umbrella's manufacturing plant on Sheena Island.

A model T-103 mass-produced, human-based bio-weapon. Otherwise known as...

Tyrant.

And it seemed to have followed her here after finishing off any remaining survivors there may have been at the police station. Just perfect. She had a sword-wielding mummy following after her, and now an unstoppable killing machine to deal with, too.

"Persistent bastard, aren't you?" she whispered to herself as she began quickly backing away, before turning entirely, and racing for the opposite end of the room.

Another large door blocked her off, but unlike the other vault door, the agent could see an access switch along the wall. She quickly snatched it, and yanked it down as hard as she could. The switch fell down, but the door didn't raise up. Ada looked back at the access switch's panel, and sighed in aggravation when she saw the power light was off.

Reaching under her coat for the EMF Visualizer, she called to Gilver, who had calmly and slowly made his way back into the main section of the room, and reported, "I can get us out of here, but I'm gonna need a minute. Make yourself useful, and buy me some time."

The man cocked his head towards her, as if curious, before turning his gaze back to the end of the room as the sound of metal crumpling resounded, the Tyrant having knocked the door off its hinges.

"...So be it," the bandaged man murmured to himself as he positioned his body directly between her and the fast-approaching monster, the brute setting its burning eyes on the man before it.

With the Visualizer, she quickly found the switch she needed to divert power from back to the door, but upon hearing the Tyrant's stomps getting closer by the second, she chanced a glance over her shoulder towards Gilver-

-And felt her eyes widen with panic as she saw the darkly-dressed man simply standing in place, the giant almost upon him, its massive hands cupping together as it brought both arms over its head, before fiercely swiping them down in a descending double-fist smash-

That never connected with its target, as Gilver's entire body seemed to _flicker,_ the man himself vanishing in a dark blur, a strange hum emitting through the air. All the electronics in the room suddenly dimmed, and even the Visualizer in her hand's readout momentarily became nothing but blue static before correcting itself, the power switch it had locked onto turning yellow as the line was successfully hacked.

The agent looked from the Visualizer back to the Tyrant, watching the behemoth draw its arms back, its hideous face still a stoic mask, but an unmistakable flash of confusion briefly appearing in its red and black eyes as it continued to stare at the ruined section of the floor its target had only seconds ago been standing on.

Then the lights in the room dimmed again, the humming sound echoing a second time as Gilver reappeared behind the creature in a crouch, his sword tucked near his hip as he rapidly drew the blade out, the silver and black katana cutting into the back of the Tyrant's legs... and the blade somehow managed to slice through the reinforced coat wrapped around the beast, sending splashes of black blood onto the floor. The colossus actually stumbled forward a few steps, but it recovered just as quickly, its left arm swinging out, trying to smack the swordsman away. But again, his body flickered, vanishing entirely with a hum, the monster's gloved fist striking nothing but air.

The electronics in the room flickered again, and the man in black reappeared in front of the creature, his blade slashing out, cutting deep into the beast's neck. Black blood spurted from the long gash, and the Tyrant staggered back, one massive gloved hand clutching its bleeding throat. The golem collapsed to its knees, and its foe stepped back, his cold eyes observing his opponent as its blood seeped out between its gloved fists, falling fast at first, but gradually slowing. This prompted the bandaged man to narrow his eyes.

Behind him, Ada pulled the switch down entirely a second time, and a gentle electronic beep prompted the heavy door to finally retracted to the right, opening a new passage.

"Let's go!" she called out, before quickly moving into the next room.

The swordsman's eyes followed her momentarily, before looking back at the Tyrant. His icy gaze widened just a fraction when he saw the flow of blood leaking between the giant's gloved fingers had almost stopped flowing entirely, the coated behemoth lumbering back up to its feet, its burning gaze locked on the bandaged figure, the red and black eyes glowing like hellfire.

Gilver cocked his head as the creature lowered its hand from its throat, revealing the deep cut he had inflicted upon its neck was almost entirely healed, the flesh of the Tyrant's neck darker, with quickly-formed scarred tissue not unlike the hideous flesh already upon its face.

"Hmph... So you _do_ have more than just a brute's strength..." the swordsman mused to himself. He gripped the hilt of his blade tightly, dropping to a low crouch before speaking again. "Now I see how such a base creature could've proved a challenge for someone like 'Tony Redgrave.'"

His tone was dry and bored, as always, until he spoke Redgrave's name, spitting the name out like a foul curse, as if saying it offended him somehow.

Behind him, the sound of overloading electronics resounded, an explosion of electricity and metal issuing, shortly followed by Ada's voice calling out, "Gilver, come on!" The man looked over his shoulder, and saw the woman in the far back of the new room, situated behind a table, and in front of a smoking, ruined filtration fan.

The agent had already slipped through when her eyes widened and she shouted, "_Behind you!_"

Gilver didn't even bother turning, hearing the Tyrant behind him rising back to its full height, the air rushing once more as it brought both of its clenched fists down in a double-fisted hammer blow once again. The bandaged swordsman's body flickered a third time, disappearing with a hum, and he reappeared in the new room in a low crouch, his sword sheathed at his side. Cold eyes glaring back at the creature in annoyance, the entirety of his sword began to glow with black and white light.

"_Don't move,_" he hissed, drawing his blade a fraction of the way.

The glow faded from around the sword-

-And the empty space around the Tyrant's head darkened momentarily, before lighting up with dozens of flashes of black, gray, and white, the sounds of slicing metal issuing. In moments, dozens of cuts appeared all over the monster's head, dark blood spurting from every wound, and the beast's red and black eyes vanishing in a flash of onyx and silver. The giant staggered back, its right hand clutching its ruined eyes while its left swung out blindly.

It struck various terminals, smashing them to pieces like cheap plastic, before blindly lunging forward, desperately trying to find the one responsible for its injuries-

-and collided with one of the windows, shattering the glass, and sending the behemoth tumbling back onto the walkway outside. The metal pathway gave way under the creature's unrestrained weight, causing it to plummet back down into the darkened area below.

The stoic swordsman watched the entire scene in silence, before the gauze crinkled around the corners of his mouth in a wide sneer of triumph.

Was this the best the Umbrella Corporation could come up with?

"Disappointing..." he murmured, rising from his crouch, slipping his hand back into a pocket before turning to follow the federal woman.

The agent had already slipped through the damaged filtration fan, landing in a new area, her eyes staring back above at the impromptu escape route she had created. She could hear Gilver's sword slashes singing through the air in the room above, along with the sounds of the Tyrant's fists lashing out, seemingly striking random terminals and something made of glass, but she heard nothing else after a loud crash of crumpling metal. The woman narrowed her eyes, a part of her wondering if the creature had finally managed to get its hands on swordsman...

Then the lights of the area she stood in flickered and dimmed, casting everything in deep shadows. Ada heard that strange humming sound once again, and when the lights came back on a moment later, she looked away from the filtration window she had slipped through above, turning her gaze to her right-

Where stood said missing stranger less than a foot away, with nary a stain on his dark clothing, the gauze wrapped tightly over his head, and hands unmarked as well, his cold sapphire eyes observing her in silence. His right hand was once again in his pocket, while his left held his sheathed katana.

Ada gazed back at him, her mind rushing to process everything she had seen this strange swordsman do. From killing five undead with seemingly one sword swing that she hadn't even seen, to fighting off a Tyrant with an ease even she wouldn't have been able to pull off with the proper weaponry needed to fend off such a beast.

_I'm beginning to wonder if there even __**is**__ a man under those bandages..._ she thought to herself as she faced the darkly-dressed figure entirely.

Gilver raised his hand that held his sword towards the damaged filtration window above before speaking. "That... won't be troubling us again." He lowered his scabbard, but continued watching her silently.

Keeping her own expression calm and aloof like she always wore, the woman nodded, turning around to head for the steps that led to a doorway into the next area, all while speaking as she did. "Guess you _can_ be useful, after all."

The stranger said nothing in response to that, only cocking his head as he watched her take the lead before following, remaining at a slight distance behind her. When Ada reached the next area, she saw a large piece of machinery to her left, and a stairway leading to an upper walkway. To her right was another door, and the agent quickly stalked towards it, spotting a powered-down panel next to it, which made her roll her eyes.

"Of course..."

She reached into her coat for the EMF Visualizer, while behind her, the man in black had wandered off a little ways, and was looking at the large machinery, which made the woman somewhat grateful, if only to have his intense and cold glare off of her for the moment. Checking the hacker tool's readout, she found that all the power lines were protected from her tool's hacking capabilities. She huffed in annoyance, slipping the Visualizer back into its holster under her coat, moving away from the door.

If the Visualizer couldn't get her through that door, she was going to have to find one of the identification wristbands Umbrella employees were required to wear to get access to the NEST, and other areas associated with it. Ada walked over the small alcove just in front of the incinerator, Gilver a few steps behind her, still studying the large machine, and was now peering through the small window built into the closed doors of it.

As the female agent was checking through the various items strewn about the room, hoping vainly to find a wristband, or a dead Umbrella worker with one, she heard a soft clicking *_snap,_* and turned her head, seeing her strange companion with his empty hand raised, his finger snapping a second time, making her cock a brow in confusion. His fingers wagged, motioning her to come closer. Wary, and against her better judgement, she went towards him slowly, never taking her eyes off the back of his bandaged head, though his own eyes were still peering through the small window built into the door.

He moved his hand towards the window once she was close enough, pointing a single finger before murmuring, "Curious..."

Unable to help herself, she glanced into the interior of the incinerator herself. At the far back of it lay three bodies; maybe more. It was hard to tell because of how dark it was inside the large machine... save for a blinking green light emanating from the wrist of a dead man propped against the far back wall. Ada resisted the urge to pinch herself.

_This is almost too easy,_ she thought to herself with a smirk before looking back to Gilver.

"Wait here a moment."

She was already moving away before he could respond, though he watched her quickly ascend the two flights of metal stairs leading to the walkway above. The woman looked around the upper level for a moment before her brown eyes fell on a large lever. Grasping it, she pulled it all the way down.

A moment later, the heavy door to the interior of the incinerator began to rise up with a groan, the man turning his cool gaze back to watch it move up. The agent quickly made her way back to the base level below in the meanwhile, and soon descended into the interior of the incinerator, heading towards the bodies in the far back, her silent companion following a few steps behind her. Reaching the very bottom of the incinerator, Ada crouched down, unclipping the small one-size-fits-all wristband from the dead man's hand.

She smirked at the blinking green light on the small item in her hand-

-when behind them, the light of the previous area was suddenly cut off, prompting both to whirl around just in time to watch the large door to the incinerator slam closed, trapping them inside. Just before it settled down entirely, Ada spotted a pair of jeans-wearing legs, and cursed under her breath for her foolishness.

"It appears we've fallen into a trap, Agent," the mysterious swordsman observed, tone as dry and bored as ever.

"Yeah, no shit," she snapped back, quickly charging up the incline of the incinerator, her brown eyes glaring at the open window slot, where Annette Birkin gazed back with just as much contempt.

"_Bravo,_" Ada mockingly congratulated, before asking, "Gonna burn us alive now?"

"You'll never get your filthy hands on the G," the runaway researcher hissed back.

The federal agent marched up to the door, and stared face-to-face with the scientist, the swordsman idling behind her all the while, watching the two women with rapt attention.

"I'm not the only one after it," the younger woman pointed out to her. "...You realize that?"

The G-Virus wasn't exactly the best kept secret at Umbrella at this point. Spies within the NEST, William Birkin's own contact in the United States military, and other parties were all aware of its existence. Even now, any one of those parties could be closing in on any remaining samples there may be left in Raccoon.

The other woman continued to glare defiantly back at her, before stepping back. "...Then you won't die alone."

She peered past her adversary, giving the bandaged man a curious look before slamming the shutter closed. Not even a second later, a loud mechanical *_beep_* issued through the incinerator, and the floor under the two trapped captives feet came alive with low orange flames.

Gilver blinked, glancing down at the now burning floor while Ada quickly unbuckled her coat, and flung it onto the floor, stepping onto it. The faux-leather material would provide a small barrier between the fire and her pumps, but she wagered she had about a minute at best to find a way to escape this fiery death trap.

Hearing the agent's sudden movements prompted the stoic mercenary to look away from the floor, and back to his fellow captive... and the gauze around his right eye crinkled as he cocked a brow upon seeing what the woman had been wearing underneath her coat the entire time.

"Interesting choice of attire for a federal agent..." he noted aloud, and Ada had to physically stop herself from drawing her handgun, and shooting him between the eyes.

Instead, she stayed silent, drawing the Visualizer, and beginning to scan the walls of the incinerator while Gilver slowly approached, still eyeing her choice of clothing.

A silky red cocktail dress and nylons weren't exactly standard issue, but Ada hadn't been planning to have to search for the sample as soon as she arrived in Raccoon City. She had arrived two days before the outbreak reached its critical juncture, having checked into one of the city's nicer hotels, and had been planning to go out to dinner the night the shit hit the fan. So yeah. She wasn't exactly dressed appropriately, not that it mattered right now.

"You gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna help me get us out of here?" she asked the mummy-wrapped swordsman, glancing over her shoulder to glare back at him.

Infuriatingly, the stranger simply crossed his arms and closed his eyes, shrugging casually, as if they weren't about to be cooked alive. "I can choose to leave whenever I want," was all he said before staying silent, eyes remaining closed.

_Then why haven't you?!_ Ada angrily thought to herself. She looked away from the frustrating bandaged freak, shoving her annoyance back down. Getting riled and unfocused right now would only get them both killed.

With the EMF Visualizer, she was able to find three connecting power lines supplying electricity to the incinerator. They had heavier shielding compared to the other power lines she had overloaded, but all that meant was it would take a few more seconds to overload them. A small measure of time, but it was those precious seconds that would decide life or death.

She had successfully fried the first power line, and was moving to overloading the second when smoke wafted up to her face, causing her to glance downward. She spotted the edges of her coat had started to char and burn.

Behind her, Gilver, eyes still closed, raised his right hand, wagging his index finger back and forth while chiming, "Tick-tock. Time's running out..."

Ignoring him, Ada finished overloading the second power line, and quickly located the third. Just as the flames under their feet began to increase in volume and heat, the Visualizer finished overloading the final power line. The three overclocked circuits above the door to the incinerator exploded in a shower of electric sparks, and the door itself was blown off a second later, collapsing on the floor outside of the incinerator, while the flames under the female agent and mysterious swordsman's feet promptly flickered and died. Unable to help herself, the woman breathed a sign of relief.

Being cooked alive was definitely near the bottom of her preferred ways to die list. Glancing down at her ruined coat, Ada walked out of the incinerator, her companion a few steps behind her as always. Once out of the incinerator entirely, the man in black paused and checked the soles of his boots, his intense blue eyes noting with disdain a few charred spots. The agent couldn't care less, however, promptly ignoring him as she went around the incinerator, and spotted the door she had checked earlier.

Only a few minutes ago, the terminal to unlock it had been powered down, but now it was glowing again.

_That bitch knows what she's doing..._ she admitted to herself. Ada would chalk it up to being rattled by both her encounter with the Tyrant and Gilver's seemingly supernatural abilities distracting her, but Annette had still lured her into a trap.

Walking up to the door, she reached for the wristband she had stuffed into her satchel. Slipping it around her right wrist, she walked up to the door, holding her hand out towards the scanning panel. A pleasant chime issued, and the mechanical door slid open as an electronic female voice spoke up.

"_Visitor clearance confirmed. Your ID is authorized until [OCTOBER] [FIRST]. Please return before this date._"

_Not gonna happen..._ she thought to herself as she moved into the newly opened corridor.

A quick check in the back saw nothing of interest, so she moved for the hallway she had passed earlier on her left, Gilver slipping in after her before the mechanical door closed. Ignoring him, Ada spotted another door at the end of the shorter corridor.

Stepping through it, the agent arrived in the upper level overlooking the treatment pool room a floor below. She saw a raised platform bridge in the center of the chamber, connecting the walkway she stood on to a smashed wall across from it. If she had to guess, judging by the amount of construction equipment scattered about, it was in the process of being remodeled. Moving towards the bridge, her mysterious companion still several steps behind her, the woman started across the bridge, wondering how much farther Birkin could have gone in the short time since springing her trap-

-when a powerful light turned on so bright, Ada was forced to blink and flinched her gaze away from it. When she opened her eyes again, she looked towards the light's source to her right...

And saw Annette Birkin standing on the opposite side of a wall-sized window of the sewer manager's control office. The scientist had her hands in her coat's pockets, and was observing her with a cold, methodical expression. Wong, for her part, glared back at her, while internally kicking herself for falling into another trap sprung by her target.

"_Enough_ with this cat and mouse game!" the agent snapped to the scientist. And she meant it, utterly sick of chasing after the other woman, and falling into trap after trap.

_"The game is over,"_ Annette responded, her voice filtering through a speaker as she moved towards a control panel in the office. _"You lost,"_ she declared with finality, hitting a single button on the panel.

Refusing to admit defeat, the younger female called out to her again. "Tell me: is your husband still alive?!... Or did you kill him, so you could take credit for G?!"

There was really no basis to her question, but perhaps provoking Birkin into making a mistake would distract her long enough for Ada to think of a plan. Unfortunately, she wasn't taking the bait.

The female scientist sneered back at her as she yanked a lever on the panel back. _"Interesting theory..."_

Behind her, a large piece of machinery began to rise up, prompting the federal agent to snap her gaze towards it, before quickly looking back at her target. "If you don't cooperate, I'll get a sample from the NEST!"

That, it turned out, was the wrong thing to say.

_"Over my dead body!"_ the older woman hissed as she yanked another lever down, prompting the large machine piece to come down onto the bridge.

Ada whirled around, eyes widening as Annette, meanwhile, pulled another switch, causing the large machine to drag itself towards the federal officer in a kick-up of sparks, the huge device coming at her as fast as a speeding car with twice the weight-

-when the powerful light still on the agent dimmed and flickered as Gilver appeared in front of Ada, his body in a low crouch, sheathed katana tucked low at his hip, the scabbard glowing black and white once again. The bandaged swordsman rapidly drew his blade out, slashing through empty air, while the dragging machinery became engulfed in darkness that vanished into hundreds of silver and black flashes. Almost instantly, the large machine was cut to pieces in multiple bursts of sparks, heavy metallic groans echoing across the room as the cut-up pieces fell into the treatment pool below with a series of heavy splashes.

Both women had watched the entire scene in stunned silence, Birkin more shocked than Ada. The scientist could only watch as the man in black spun his sword once, before standing up to his full height, sheathing the blade slowly. Only once the katana was back in its scabbard did his cold blue eyes turn to look towards her.

Upon meeting this mysterious man's intense gaze, Annette could only do one thing... She twisted around and bolted out the door, her instincts screaming at her to run and hide from that creature dressed as a man. It wasn't anything even remotely like the monsters she had helped Umbrella create.

No... Looking into that man's eyes... was like trying to hold the gaze of the devil himself.

Gilver watched the older woman flee through a door in the office she was hiding in, unable to resist the malicious grin forming on his hidden lips as he recognized the terror in her eyes from the brief moment they had met his own-

A gentle *_click_* broke him from his amusement, though his grin did not fade.

"...I save your life again... and you show your thanks with that puny weapon... _Again._" A low scoff escaped from his lips. "You wretch."

Ada held her Mauser with both hands, pressing the small handgun tightly against the back of his head. Watching him destroy that piece of machinery - which had to have been at least _twice_ the size and weight of an average car - with only a single swing of his sword confirmed what she had suspected after meeting him: the bandaged stranger _wasn't_ human.

What he was, she wasn't sure, but she was willing to bet a bullet through the brain would still put him down.

Ignoring his words, the agent squeezed the trigger-

-but no sooner did the weapon fire did the lights in the room flicker and dim into darkness, her shot going wide, and hitting the wall across from her. When the lights returned, Gilver was no longer in front of her. Ada whirled around, backing up several steps when she saw that the darkly-dressed swordsman was now behind her, his right hand back in his pocket, while his left clutched his sheathed katana.

He observed the startled agent with his cold eyes, his sneer still on his lips as he began to slowly walk towards her.

"What's the matter, Agent Wong?" he inquired, his tone mockingly stressing the word 'agent.'

"What the hell are you?" she demanded. "You're not a man; I can tell that much... Nothing human could do what you just did."

The woman was hoping that her questioning would get him to keep talking. She needed him distracted, just for a second, if she had any hopes of hitting him with one of her bullets when another opportunity presented itself.

Gilver chuckled dryly, favoring her with a mocking smirk. "Well... you're not entirely wrong... Although, aren't you being just a tad bit... hypocritical? You dare to call me out for a lie I never even uttered, when you yourself have been lying to me since our first meeting?" he asked, cocking his head as he continued to slowly approach her, his fingers flexing over his scabbard's length.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" the woman snapped before she could stop herself.

The imposing swordsman laughed quietly yet mockingly again, looking down on her with amusement flashing through his cold eyes. "Really, 'Agent' Wong... You claim to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You say you came to find evidence to use against Umbrella... So why, then, have you come to this city all by yourself? Armed so poorly, dressed as you are, without even a partner to watch your back... And if you really needed evidence against Umbrella, why not simply take one of the diseased civilians? Surely that would be more than enough for any federal agent to complete a mission of this caliber, would it not?... Unless, of course..."

He trailed off, his smirk vanishing, and his intense eyes narrowing slightly as they met her own. Gone was the calm, stoic gaze of before, replaced by an intense, almost menacing gaze. Like that of a predator watching his prey.

That was when Ada realized her story had never fooled this man to begin with.

"Unless that federal agent _wasn't_ a federal agent, lying about her identity, and instead was something else entirely... A corporate spy, perhaps, whose true objective... the _real_ reason she would even come to this lost city of the damned... was to recover this so-called 'G-Virus,' and sell it to the highest bidder... So which are you? Are you the agent, or are you the spy, Ada Wong?" he asked rhetorically. "...If that even is your real name."

Ada didn't respond, only keeping her gun aimed right for his wrapped-up face.

The bandages covering the corners of figure's mouth crinkled again, his sneer returning. "I suspected as much..."

His thumb flicked the guard of his sword, the katana unsheathing partially-

And then his eyes suddenly widened, his sneer vanishing as his head snapped to the left.

The woman hadn't heard anything that would have caused him to suddenly shift his attention, but she wasn't about to waste what was her only chance.

She squeezed her Mauser's trigger a second time, the muzzle flashing as the bullet shot towards Gilver-

-who's attention returned to her, his head snapping forward at the same time his free hand grasped his sword's handle, rapidly drawing the blade out in front of himself. The bullet from her gun struck the katana, where it split in half, the two halves striking the wall behind the figure as he drew his sword out, and swung it for her neck-

Only to stop when the edge of the weapon's sharp tip touched the side of her neck.

For a single moment, the two simply held each other's gaze, neither saying a word.

Then, Gilver slowly drew his sword back, spun it once, and returned it to its sheathe.

Only once it was fully sheathed again did he speak again. "Our time is up. He's here."

Before the woman could ask what he even meant by that, and who 'he' even was, the bandaged swordsman turned on his heel, and began walking towards the shattered wall.

As he did, he raised his free hand up, his index and middle fingers following afterwards. "That's two bullets I owe you now, Miss Wong. And I _always_ return the favor... Until our paths cross again..."

With those final words, he turned the corner once he was in the new area, and the lights dimmed again briefly. When they returned to their regular brightness, he was gone.

Once she knew she was all alone, Ada let out a long, shuddering breath she hadn't even known she had been holding, her legs wobbling, and threatening to give out on her. She looked towards where the stranger had vanished, her mind racing, a single question repeating over and over again:

_What __**was**__ he?!_

After a long time, she managed to calm her racing heart, and in response to that question in her mind, she asked herself: _Does it matter?_

Whoever or whatever that mysterious swordsman called Gilver was, it _didn't_ matter.

She had a job to do, and less time to see it finished with every passing minute.

Ada glanced at the wristband on her right wrist again. This would get her into the NEST. And if she remembered her intel properly, there was a cable car for transporting staff to that facility close by. She'd find it, infiltrate the laboratory, and recover the sample.

With that decided, she followed down the pathway her new adversary had gone through, albeit at a slower pace, with her handgun ready just in case anything else was lurking around.

As she ventured off, her mind recalled his final words to her: _Until our paths cross again..._

She could only pray that wouldn't be anytime soon...

But somehow, the woman calling herself Ada Wong just couldn't convince herself of that.

* * *

Hey an update that _didn't_ take three months!

What are the odds?

(Remembers we're in a literal biohazard pandemic of our own at the moment)

...well at least I used the time off from work in lockdown productively.

Chapter 8! This was the fun one! The two most mysterious parties in Raccoon City briefly join forces! Believe it or not, Ada and Gilver teaming up was supposed to happen a lot earlier, but my beta/co-author Da-Awesom-One convinced me to change the progression of the story up, for the better! He's also been on a re-writing/editing spree for this story, changing up dialogue, correcting my many spelling errors and mistakes, adding nice little tidbits of characterization and even giving our protagonist Tony Redgrave a new outfit based on some concept art from DMC4.

I can say for a fact without his help, I don't think this story would have been even halfway as successful as its turned out!

So if you haven't already, go check out his author page, my pal has some awesome crossover stories of his own I think you'd all enjoy.

Next chapter: Things are coming to a head! Claire is gonna meet Annette before trying to find Sherry, who's disappeared once again, and Tony Redgrave and Gilver are about to have a long overdue reunion. After that, a certain secret Tony has been hiding from Claire finally comes to light...


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: A Kind of Magic

* * *

_They were at the bottom of the basement she had found Sherry in, the small girl standing by the elevator on front of them, waiting for the older couple as they chatted idly. And for a very brief moment, Claire Redfield almost believed they would just take that elevator to the sewers, and search for a means to escape the city of the dead Raccoon City had become. The unstoppable behemoth in the coat had been taken care of by her boyfriend, Tony Redgrave, Chief Irons was dead, and they were all free and far away from the various undead and other monstrosities back at the police station._

_Maybe they weren't entirely out of the situation, but surely - **surely** \- the worst was finally behind them... right?_

**_Wrong._**

_It happened so fast. If not for Sherry's sudden scream, Claire would never have even seen it. Perhaps that would have been for the better. When she heard the child's sudden cry, twisting around to see her point at something behind Tony, the young woman spun towards the direction they came from, her own eyes as wide as dinner plates when saw the looming shadow charging towards the unsuspecting youth, who still had his back to the approaching threat._

_Eyes widening in terror, she cried out his name. "**TONY!**"_

_Her scream was almost drowned out by the horrible sound of puncturing flesh as two long, jagged, white claws burst from the young man's chest in a spray of blood. He went completely still, his expression one of surprise rather than pain, his icy eyes glancing down at the claws jutting out of his chest. Both girls screamed again in horror as the creature that had impaled the blindsided youth began groaning loudly, seemingly feeling the pain it had inflicted upon its silent victim._

_Claire's grey-blue orbs flashed between her fatally-wounded boyfriend to the monster behind him-_

_-and to her horror, she recognized it. It was the creature from the power plant beneath the police station: the monster that still somewhat resembled a man, save for the hideously swollen right arm and the tumor-like orange eyeball growing from its upper bicep. Except something had changed about it. And to her terrified surprise, it was **still** changing._

_Its torso was even wider, the shreds of the white coat it had previously were gone, and the mutated arm was even larger now, more shards of bone jutting out of the shoulder. Where there had once been pale flesh was torn and swollen red, fibrous muscle. Its legs were longer as well, the left pant leg gone, the right still on, along with the waistband, the flesh of its leg as crimson and torn-looking as the rest of its body._

_The shaggy human-looking face let tortured groans and moans of agony slipping out of its lips, which grew in fervor suddenly. Claire realized the still human face was **sinking** lower into the chest, as if it was being shoved down by the sudden bulging, twisting flesh rising where the human head had been. A new face was actually **growing** out of the monster's neck._

_"Daddy...?" Sherry's small voice whispered from behind the young woman, prompting her to whirl around and look at the child in shock._

_"What'd you say?" she asked her in disbelieving horror._

_But Sherry wasn't looking at her, her wide blue eyes transfixed on the human face of the monstrosity. To the college girl's dawning horror, she realized both the girl and the man's face shared the same blonde hair and blue eyes. The man's single, bloodshot eye met the child's own teary orbs, and the biker girl swore she saw an even worse pain flicker through the eye, before the face fell away with another pained groan._

_"Oh god..." she whispered, pushing the preteen as far back as she could into the elevator's cart, walking backwards, and shoving the gate door shut as she did in an effort to put another barrier between herself and the girl from the transforming monstrosity only ten feet away from them._

_The human face's pained groans finally ceased, while horrible **snapping** noises issued as the new head finished settling in place. There was nothing remotely human about it, resembling nothing more than an overgrown lump of flesh, bone, and sharp teeth as the new mouth opened in an enraged roar, a single green eye appearing where a normal eye would have been._

_With a furious growl, it flung its monstrous right arm out, flinging Tony off its claws in the same motion, fresh blood spraying in the wake of the limp man's body, which collided into the wall, and slumped lifelessly to the ground in a heap._

_"**TONYYY!**" Claire screamed again as the monster reared back and howled._

_When she glanced back at it, the only thing left that still resembled the human it may have once been was the silent and slack face now consigned to its left pectoral, where just below it, a smaller, thinner arm was growing out, twitching weakly. The beast lowered its body suddenly, its new face and the orange tumor-like eye on its massive right bicep locked not onto the pink-vested cyclist, but the little girl behind her._

_With a guttural roar, it charged for the elevator, dragging its massive clawed hand behind it._

_"**DADDY, NO!**" Sherry screamed._

_If this creature was indeed the child's father, whatever part of him left inside the monster he had become no longer had control of his body, and the creature refused to heed his daughter's cries. The beast collided with the elevator cart with enough force to knock it back and off the rails that controlled it. The cart began to descend at a rapid pace, both Claire and Sherry screaming as the monster's arms began to tear at the gate, the abomination roaring as well..._

_But above all of that, the younger Redfield **swore** she heard another howl... One different from this monster's, and nothing like Claire had ever heard before. This bellow was an even deeper roar..._

_One that could only belong to the devil himself._

* * *

Darkness, all-consuming, encompassing, stole from her the sensations of sight and sound. Then... a voice reached through the blackness, stirring her back towards the light.

"Claire? Are you alright?"

The darkness gave away, and she could see Sherry's face over hers, the young girl's cheeks and forehead smudged with dirt and flecks of blood, her bright blue eyes peering into her own, filled with terror and anxiety. The child's voice sounded far away despite how close Claire knew she was... but beneath that, the young woman could faintly hear something else.

"Can you hear me?" she asked desperately. "Claire?"

Claire wanted to tell her she could, but her lips refused to work. Sounds began to echo under Sherry's voice, and the older girl could see sparks of electricity flashing behind the child, and hear deep growling snarls of the monster that had attacked them... and the singing of metal cutting through empty air striking flesh, and piercing through it. The snarls became enraged roars, but despite how loud they should have been, the college student could still only faintly hear them just slightly above the blonde girl's voice.

The little girl's face flinched upwards, watching something the unresponsive young adult couldn't see, before looking back down at her, fresh terror flashing through her little bright eyes.

"Claire, you have to get up! He's going to get us! Wake up! _Wake up!_"

More roars... followed by a man's voice crying out in pain, the sound of something heavy being thrown through the air, followed by a clatter of metal, and the sound of flesh being torn. The child's gaze frantically looked back and forth from Claire to something that was out barely-conscious older woman's field of view, though she could hear a series of heavily thudding *_booms_* growing closer and closer.

Just before the hazy blackness overwhelmed her once again, dragging her into silent oblivion, the last thing she saw was the little girl scrambling up and spinning in the other direction, running away from the approaching abomination, its enraged roar fading into the darkness as well.

Black nothingness followed for what seemed like an eternity... And then...

"Wake up! _Wake up!_"

A new voice, older than Sherry's, tone filled with demanding annoyance to replace the child's frantic desperation.

Gentle snaps followed the new voice, and Claire found her mind rising out of the all-consuming darkness, her eyes weakly blinking open. She almost snapped them shut again when a sudden bright light shone directly into them.

The new voice, an older woman's the young college student realized, spoke again. "Open your eyes."

Reluctantly, Claire complied with the command, struggling to keep her aching orbs open as the glow from a small penlight in a blurry hand over her face held the light over her left eye, then the right as the voice spoke again.

"Hold still..."

The girl did as she was told, too out of it to really question what was happening. Then, finally, and with much relief from the younger woman, the older lady looming over her drew her penlight away, allowing the collegiate girl to roll her head to the side, blinking her watery eyes several times to get the lingering flashing dots out of her vision.

The other woman rose back up, and stepped away from her fallen form, murmuring to herself as she did. "Not infected..."

Hearing those words did little to alleviate Claire's immediate mood, even as she resisted the urge to panic at the idea that she could have caught the sickness that had turned Raccoon's populace into undead cannibals. She shoved those feelings aside as she struggled to pull herself off of the hard floor, her whole body feeling like one giant, throbbing bruise. Rolling over onto her side was torture enough, the sounds of electric sparks discharging serving to further irritate her pounding head and aggravated vision.

Slowly, her bearings were coming back to her, and then she realized it was just herself and the other woman in the room.

"...Sherry?" she whispered aloud, her grey blue eyes looking over the large room. The young biker pushed herself onto her hands and knees, her gaze snapping from one corner of the new open space she had awoke into another, but there was no sign of the little girl in her charge anywhere.

"Where's Sherry?!" she demanded, her eyes falling on the room's other occupant.

Now that her head was clearing up somewhat, Claire took in the newcomer's appearance. It was a woman perhaps a decade or more her senior - in her late thirties or early forties was her best guess - and she was wearing a white lab coat over a gray blouse and blue jeans, her long blonde hair tied in a single tail slipping over her right shoulder. The older woman wasn't looking at the other girl, and was instead scribbling something in a pad of paper in one hand, with a pen in the other.

The younger woman was about to reiterate her question when the blonde mumbled a reply, almost absently. "Sherry... Sherry's fine."

The response made Claire blink as she forced herself to stand back up to her full height, her right hand gripping her hip as it throbbed and pulsed with pain. Fortunately, however, her feet didn't wobble and her legs held up as she slowly approached the distracted blonde, who continued to scribble in her notepad, only looking away from it to observe the recent damages inflicted upon the room.

"Do you know Sherry?"

The woman either ignored, or more likely, simply wasn't paying enough attention to the redhead's question, instead opting to look over a section of the room that had been torn apart, like a mini-tornado had blown through.

"...impressive display of strength," she uttered in awe before suddenly walking away from the spot she had been studying to quickly dart behind Claire, the younger woman watching incredulously as the older woman continued to document the destruction inflicted upon the area.

"What happened to her?" she demanded further, not in the mood for whatever game this person was playing.

The older woman's head fell to investigate her notepad as she scribbled some more into it, but replied to the biker's question this time by way of mumbling, "Have to assess the situation..."

The college student's eyes narrowed in a combination of confusion and frustration with this woman's strange antics. But as Claire looked up to her face, she noted the dirty stains of sweat and blood along her clothes, and a part of her wondered if she was in a state of shock. Her note taking may be an attempt to cope with whatever had rattled her so badly.

Still needing answers, the young woman spoke up again, needing to try to get the other woman's focus to find Sherry.

"Who are you?... I'm Claire."

Again, the blonde lady didn't respond, instead looking away from her notebook to observe something in the ruins of the elevator shaft, her deep blue eyes narrowing in thought.

"I didn't foresee this... None of the subjects ever progressed to stage two... Don't understand why he would kill a potential carrier for an embryo... unless..."

She trailed off, scribbling in her notebook rapidly, making Claire blink in confusion, her head turning to look at the ruin of the elevator-

-and her hands rose to her mouth, her jaw dropping in horror at what she saw, her eyes widening, tears prickling their corners when she spotted a familiar figure in red, impaled by the various broken metal pieces jutting out of the ruined elevator cart.

_No... Oh god, no... **Please!... NO!**_

Her mind pleaded, her soul begged whatever higher power that controlled this insane world she found herself in, but the truth lay in front of her.

Tony Redgrave's body was hung up atop the destroyed elevator cart, several broken pieces of jagged metal sticking out his limp limbs. Two had gone through his right leg, with a longer rebar piercing through his left thigh. Another was jammed through his left shoulder, and several more emerged from his chest and abdomen, each rusty bar covered with dark blood, his own pale face and hair streaked with it. His eyes were closed, and if not for the obvious impalement his body had been subjected to, she could have fooled herself into thinking he was merely asleep.

The young woman couldn't fight down the single choked sob that escaped her, while feeling the tears that had been gathering begin to fall down her cheeks.

The sound seemed to draw the other woman's attention from her notebook, giving Claire a glance before saying, "What?... Oh, Annette. Tell me, what happened to William?"

That sudden question, as well as the newcomer's, Annette's, delayed introduction, drew the grieving girl's teary eyes away from Tony, meeting the older woman's sudden intense gaze.

Sniffling, wiping her eyes, Claire could only utter in reply, voice trembling with barely restrained grief, "I-I don't know... Who-who is that?"

"The creature responsible for this," the other woman snapped back, her focused expression giving way to sudden irritation.

When she saw the younger woman look back at the dead man's body, she shook her head and quickly scribbled a few final notes into her notepad before stuffing it and her pen into the pocket of her coat, muttering to herself, "Seems to be evolving much faster than expected..."

The sudden sound of Annette moving away drew Redfield's attention from her lover's body, and she looked over her shoulder, seeing the blonde lady moving towards a door on the other side of the room. The college student looked back at the man's deceased form again before pushing her grief down, wiping her tears away as she looked back towards the retreating woman.

"Wait, where are you going? Where's Sherry?!"

The little girl had run off, Claire could remember that much. And this woman, Annette, had seemed to know something about her. Maybe even where she could have gone to.

But the blonde rounded around to give the biker girl an impatient glare, snapping, "Look, I don't have time to play twenty questions!"

She paused, seeming to collect herself, before looking back at Claire and speaking in a calmer tone. "Everything's under control here."

With that said, she spun around and resumed walking away for the door.

Claire couldn't believe what she was hearing. This woman seemed completely out of it, unable to accept the reality of the situation around them. Raccoon was a city of undead, monsters were roaming the streets, and she believed everything was _under control?_

Desperate, Claire moved after her, calling out, "I need to find Sherry-"

"_My daughter is not your concern!_"

The older woman's sudden spin to face her again, followed by her angry shout, froze the younger woman in place, her eyes widening again in disbelief. Giving the collegiate girl one last angry glare, Annette pushed the door she had arrived in front of open, forcing it open, and slamming it shut behind her, leaving Claire alone to digest the sudden revelation.

_Sherry's... her daughter?_

Faintly, in the back of her mind, she recalled the first thing Sherry had told her when they met in the power plant underneath the police station. The little girl had wanted Claire's help in finding her mother, who had been working for Umbrella, making 'important new medicine' according to the child herself. Annette's behavior baffled the young woman, the scientist having been completely preoccupied documenting the destruction caused by the creature that had attacked them in the orphanage's basement. The younger Redfield's eyes narrowed suddenly, as Annette's earlier questions came back to her.

"William... She... She said _William_ was the creature that caused this..." she whispered to herself, still very confused. It was very strange to label such a normal name to such a horrifying abomination like that.

_And Sherry... Sherry called that monster... '**Daddy**...'_

Another horrible thought occurred to Claire then, making her eyes widen.

_Did she know it was him, then? The whole time?... Did she know that the monster chasing her was her own father? _The horror that child had been forced to endure in this disaster added more pain to the redhead's heart.

Swallowing shakily, she slowly turned back, not wanting to, but knowing she had to, the pragmatic part of her wanting to simply deal with it while the agonized part of her wanted to keep denying it. Trembling, she looked back up at Tony's impaled body, feeling fresh tears gather and fall from her eyes again.

Staring at his motionless body didn't help with the grief rolling through her, and morbidly, she could see the two gaping, bloody holes in the front of his coat and shirt, where the monster known as William had run his claws through his back. Claire briefly wondered how he could have survived that, and the cold voice of reason numbly concluded one final burst of adrenaline from the young man had allowed him to follow after them as they came crashing down, only to meet his end once they reached the bottom.

Her hands cupped over her mouth again as another quaking sob slipped free, and she closed her eyes, wishing vainly that when she opened them, he'd somehow be free from his bloody impalements, alive and well, his handsome face giving her that cocky smirk she loved so much.

_He can't be gone... He **can't** be... God, why did I come to this horrible place?! If I had known this would happen, I never would have...! _Another sob, and Claire found herself turning away from the dead man's body, even with her eyes shut, adding another barrier of denial between herself and the truth.

As she pushed back the grief - rejecting it - her mind began to drift back to a happier time. A normal time before she became surrounded by living death and monsters that should only exist in the worst of nightmares.

She latched onto that memory, letting herself drift away...

* * *

_"So what's this flick called, again?" Tony's voice spoke up from behind her as she eased the tape into the player she had borrowed from one of the computer-learning classes, although she could hear just a faint lack of real focus on the question._

_Part of her was wondering if he was currently admiring the rather flattering pair of bright red shorts she was wearing at the moment, rather brazenly displayed by her current kneeling position in front of the small television stand._

_Feeling her face heat up just a bit, Claire kept her own tone of voice neutral as she replied, "Highlander."_

_At that, her beau scoffed suddenly. "I swear, if this is like one of those sappy romance novels Jessica reads all the time..."_

_For a moment, she was befuddled by his remark, until she realized he was talking about a typical 'bodice ripper' novella some women liked to read, with the covers usually displaying some hunk without a shirt, and a vixen about to slip out of it, the both of them passionately embracing. She stifled a laugh, pressing the play button on the player before holding down the fast forward button to skip through the trailers._

_"It's nothing like those, trust me. You'll enjoy the soundtrack, if nothing else," she told him, standing back up when she reached the last part of the final trailer._

_Turning around, she walked back over to Tony, who was currently laid out on her bed, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, his platinum white locks shaggily covering part of his icy eyes, but she could feel his gaze now on her pink tank top - specifically on her chest - before speaking again._

_"Oh really? Who made it?"_

_"Queen," she answered with a smile, sitting on the bed and sidling up next to him._

_The young man slipped his right arm over her shoulders to pull her in closer. At the mention of her favorite band, she could feel him rolling his eyes as he scoffed gently with a huffed chuckle. Claire resisted the urge to shoot him a look._

_"Why am I not surprised..."_

_As the opening of the film started on a black screen with red text, Sean Connery's deep, accented voice narrating the text, she could feel Tony's fingers creeping down her arm, as softly as a spider's legs. Claire couldn't help the gentle shiver that bristled through her arm, her exposed skin breaking out in goosebumps. When that same hand fell towards her belly, the college girl felt her face flush again as his fingers began creeping upwards this time._

_"**Tonyyy...**" she said in a half-warning, half-breathy tone._

_"**Yeeesss?...**" he teasingly asked back, and she could picture that smirk she loved on his handsome face._

_"Something tells me you're not paying attention to the movie," she retorted, unable to resist another pleasant shudder as his hand continued to creep higher up her chest._

_He scoffed again before replying. "Dudes wrestling to some kickass rock? I'm payin' **plenty** of attention, babe... I'm just having a hard time keepin' my eyes off you."_

**_And hands, apparently... _**_she thought to herself, though not entirely rejecting him either._

_Said hand was now officially just teasingly sliding his index finger along the undersides of her right breast, when it suddenly pivoted north, and was clutching the silver feather necklace charm he had given her on their last date. He rolled the charm between his fingers, chuckling softly at the sight._

_"Oh? Still wearing this, I see."_

_Claire giggled playfully, snatching the necklace back, and turning to look up into Tony's face, feeling his arm slip around her waist this time. "Of course. Imagine my surprise when my tasteless boyfriend actually picks out a nice piece of jewelry for once."_

_He blinked at that, looking surprised. "**Tasteless?! Moi?!**"_

_Giving him a look, she tapped the rather large red gem of his own gaudy accessory currently hanging around his neck. He rolled his eyes a second time before smirking down at her again, though this grin was different from his trademark cocky one he always wore. The young woman blinked, surprised to see how soft the man's expression suddenly became._

_"It was a gift."_

_His voice was as gentle as his current look... but before Claire could think to ask who had given it to him, the sudden sound of the movie picking up caught her beau's attention._

_Tony glanced back at the TV and his eyes widened, his mouth opening in an excited grin as he exclaimed, "Holy crap, did that dude just whip out a **broadsword?!**"_

_Claire blinked, flinching when she felt her boyfriend's arm rip itself away from around her waist, the man leaning forward to watch as the star of the film, Christopher Lambert, drew his own sword from under his trench coat to challenge his blade-brandishing opponent._

_"And that guy's got a **katana?!** Ah man, this movie just got a whole lot more interesting!"_

_The young woman blinked, completely flabbergasted as her beau became fixated upon the sword duel happening in the film. With a bemused grin of her own, she cupped her fist under her jaw as she watched Tony whoop and holler with every exchange of sword strokes._

**_Well, at least he likes the movie..._**_ she concluded with a helpless shrug._

_Next time she had the dorm room to herself to invite him over, she'd pick something he'd lose interest in._

_That way, he'd **keep** his eyes on her..._

* * *

Claire laughed softly as the memory faded, her eyes opening again. They were still brimming with tears, but they didn't fall as readily as before. Despite her failed attempt at seducing him - that time, at least - Tony had loved the movie and the soundtrack to it, so she considered it a win all the same. Chuckling again, wiping her eyes, her smile fell as she looked back up at his impaled body.

It was so strange seeing him like this, covered in blood and completely still. It was so... _unlike him._ Tony had always been brimming with energy, barely able to sit still sometimes, Claire had often found herself just struggling to keep up. And now... she was never going to see that arrogant grin of his again. Never watch another movie with him, hold him close to her, or feel his heart beating against his chest...

The tears fell, silently this time, as she found her mind drifting to what felt like ages ago, but was in truth only hours. She remembered her arrival at the station, the officer named Elliot's violent death, Marvin's firm guidance, and their final conversation as he begged her to leave, his fate sealed by a single bite from one of the undead to his side. Tony had lasted longer than both of them, but everyone she had met on this horrible venture into Raccoon City was now dead...

_...Everyone... except **Sherry, **_her mind whispered.

Her last faint memory of the little girl was that of her running off, the howl of the monster that had taken the life of her lover booming moments later, followed by the heavy stomps of its feet as it followed after the terrified child. The collegiate girl wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious before Annette's arrival, but she could hope Sherry had found someplace to hide from the creature she had once called her father.

Steeling herself, Claire decided then and there that she would find the little girl, wherever she was, and get her away from this nightmare.

She had failed Elliot, Marvin, and Tony... but she was _not_ going to fail Sherry.

With that decided, the girl was about to turn and follow after Annette through the door she vanished through when a faint glimmer of silver drew her attention back to Tony's body. Blinking, she slowly walked up to the smashed rubble of the elevator cart, her pained gaze falling on the youth's bloody face for a moment, before the college girl's gaze fell. There, hanging limply around his neck, was that silver charm with a large ruby engraved in its center.

She stared at the necklace for a long moment, before forcing herself to look back at the man's face. With a choked sob, she reached both of her hands around the back of his neck, finding the latch on the necklace.

As she unhooked it, she whispered to her deceased lover, "I'm so sorry... I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, like you always protected me..."

Pulling the necklace off the dead youth's body, Claire slipped it around her own neck, surprised by the heft of the large gem. Giving him a pained smile, she cupped his cheek, uncaring of the dried blood, but was partially surprised by how warm his skin still was. Gazing at his face one last time, committing every inch of him to memory, she placed a long, soft kiss on his forehead before pulling back, her grey blue eyes closing as more tears began to spill before speaking again, her voice trembling with grief.

"But I'll carry you with me for the rest of my life... Goodbye, Anthony... I love you..."

She backed away from his body, quickly turning before opening her eyes again, a shudder of anguish rippling through her... when her teary eyes fell on the floor, spotting smaller footprints traced in the dust from the debris of the ruined elevator, followed by larger tracks, both leading to a broken section of the floor where a safety rail had also been torn apart.

Blinking, walking towards the damaged railing, Claire peered down into the heavy shadows below, and could spot a light ahead in the passage below. Briefly looking over to the door Annette had vanished through, the college student glanced back down before hoisting herself, and dropping below into the darkened pathway.

As she began moving through the corridor, her voice could be heard as she called out, "_Sherry?! Can you hear me?!_"

Silence, followed by a splash.

* * *

Back in the ruined room above, Tony Redgrave's body hung still where it was impaled.

Then, the few lights still working suddenly flickered, briefly casting the room in total darkness.

When they returned, the heavy footfalls of the darkly-dressed man known only as Gilver to all unfortunate enough to cross his path echoed in the room, his cold, sapphire eyes briefly gazing at the broken railing where the younger Redfield had vanished into, before falling on the red-clad swordsman's still body hanging pierced on various broken rebar and piping.

Slipping his free hand into his pocket, the bandaged enigma shook his head as he observed the poor state of Redgrave's 'corpse.'

"Tony, Tony, Tony... Just look at what's become of you... A mangled, powerless carcass. And all because of some woman. A _human..._ Foolishness."

As he continued to watch Tony's body, his eyes fell on the man in red's limp right hand, where blood was beginning to drop from the tips of his index and middle fingers.

Below that hand, buried partially under the rubble and ruin of metal and brick, the crimson droplets fell on the skull face engraved on the hilt of Woozy. As soon as they struck the metal of the blade, the blood vanished into the dark steel, seemingly drunk by the metal. From the sockets of the skull, sparks of red energy crackled and discharged, striking the dead man's fingers.

The effect was instant.

The hand spasmed once, all five fingers stretching out... before slowly clenched into a tight fist.

Gilver's eyes narrowed as he watched a few cuts on the 'dead' man's face began to shrink and fade away...

Then the gauze crinkled around the corners of his mouth, his sneer returning as a spark of excitement flashed through his eyes.

_Soon..._

* * *

The darkened corridor ended in another edge leading to another drop into another area below, where Claire could hear liquid rushing and gurgling. There was also a foul odor almost as bad as the rotting meat stink of the undead in the city above choking the air, only worse in its own way. It reeked of mold, mildew, urine, and excrement all mixed together in a noxious miasma threatening to choke her every time she inhaled, regardless if it was through her open mouth or nose.

In her emotional state, the young college student had forgotten she was now in the city's sewer system.

With her flashlight, Claire was able to peer over the edge, and saw it dropped down into a sluice filled with foul-looking and smelling brownish-yellow liquid, which she knew was only partially water at this point. Turning the light off and slipping it back into her pouch, the pink-vested girl stood up, inhaling deeply, trying to ignore the foul odor coming from the sewage below her. Then, she quickly moved forward, hopping down into the disgusting wastewater with a small splash.

Upon feeling her bare legs completely covered by the slimy, cold water - all the way up to her hips, with more of it sliding into her boots - the young woman gagged and fought back the urge to vomit. Those disgusting sensations, along with the now-overpowering stench, almost overwhelmed her. Swallowing once, then again, managing to keep her gorge down, Claire pulled out her flashlight and flicked it back on, beginning to trudge through the disgusting water.

"Now, I'm gonna smell like shit- _literally..._" she murmured to herself in a feeble attempt to vent her disgusted frustrations, and to break the heavy silence not even the lapping wastewater could rise over.

Behind her was a literal waterfall of the stuff, while just a few feet to her left, past a large mound of various clumps of garbage and waste, was a raised ledge. And while Redfield was extremely eager to climb it and out of the filthy water she was wading through, she stopped just short of it when she saw the doorway it was connected to was shuttered off by a closed gate, with no door handle or any other means of opening it visible to her, save a rusty valve painted a fading light blue, with a red and white diagram displaying which direction to turn it with a long, t-shaped tool she didn't have.

Moving away from the ledge and past several more mounds and piles of garbage, the girl saw the path ahead of her was blocked off by a lowered gate, but there was an open passage to her right with nothing obstructing her way, as far as she could see. Keeping her light raised with her left hand, the younger Redfield drew her revolver with her right, keeping her finger ready on the trigger, just in case. Easing down the darkened passage, Claire spotted another raised ledge to her left, while a large open sewage pipe situated into the wall on her left continued to leak and pour more of the disgusting sludge into the already filthy wastewater.

Peering up and down the new ledge, she saw a small corridor leading to a stairway to the left, and with much relief, hoisted herself onto the ledge and out of the filthy sewer water. She took a moment to take her boots off and pour the wastewater that had slipped into them, once again fighting the urge to vomit as she did. Reluctantly sliding the boots back on, ignoring the discomforting sensation of her soaked socks squelching against the wet leather, the young woman decided then and there that she was going to throw all the clothes she had worn to Raccoon City into an industrial burner once she escaped the city. She'd try to salvage the vest if she could, but she was never wearing these again if she could help it.

Moving down the corridor and up the small flight of stairs to arrive at a new door, Claire opened it, stepping into a new open space, the air smelling of machinery and oil, but thankfully the foul smells of the sewer hadn't seemed to leak in. Grateful to inhale what was better-smelling, if not entirely clean air, the biker girl blinked, lowering her flashlight, and flicking it off when she spotted the huge metal car the size of a small trolley situated over the new stairway she stood on. Slipping the light back into her pack, she started up the stairs slowly, her eyes looking over the car as she did.

"Cable car... Here?" she asked herself aloud as she reached the top of the stairs, a small alcove with a ladder now in front of her.

She ignored the ladder for the moment, continuing to look at the tram car before glancing down, spotting a set of tables and various tools scattered around and atop them.

Looking back at the cable car, Claire wondered why such a thing had been built under Raccoon City, in the city's sewers, of all places. Umbrella, she concluded. But for what purpose?

And could it potentially get her, and Sherry, once she found her, out of the city?

There was only one way to find out, and that was finding the little girl, and getting to the car.

Facing the ladder, the woman holstered her revolver before beginning the climb. In a moment, she was at the top, on a small railing overlooking the floor below, facing another door. There was a grating window installed on the door, letting her peer inside, her grey-blue eyes squinting as she peered into the shadow-filled office on the opposite side of the door-

-when a dirty, rotting face lunged at the grating, causing Claire to flinch back a step and bump into the railing behind her. The zombie beat against the door, but this one was made of a sturdy metal and hardly budged. After a moment, the ghoul snarled and staggered away, and as it did, the pink-vested girl heard a second lower groan as well.

_Zombies. **Of course...**_ she bitterly thought to herself.

The disease Umbrella had allowed to run rampant above the city had infected the sewer workers, and any other unfortunate soul seeking solitude from the Hell above. Reaching for her revolver, drawing the small sidearm out, Redfield did a quick check on the chamber, confirming it was fully loaded, then inhaled deeply, steeling herself.

Moving quickly, Claire charged through the door, handgun raised. The two ghouls had wandered further into the room, and just as the first was turning towards the sound of the sudden noise, the redhead squeezed off two shots, each bullet hitting the back of the zombie's head. Blood splattered on its fellow undead as it completed its own turn, the corpse of the first colliding against it, causing it to stumble as it attempted to lurch forward, giving her amble time to target its face and fire off a single round, which struck its filmy eye, and caused the back of the head to explode in a rain of dark gore. Hearing movement behind her, the young crack shot spun around, and spotted a heavyset male zombie staggering up from where it had previously lain up against a control panel.

Quickly sighting its head, the young woman fired the last two bullets from her revolver, both striking the zombie's forehead. With a gurgling groan, it promptly collapsed back against the panel limply. Backing up, opening the .38's chamber to tip the expended cartridges out, Claire quickly reloaded her handgun, but none of the three bodies showed any signs of trying to get back up again.

Reaching the large glass pane that dominated the other side of the room, the girl tried to peer through it, and saw this office was overlooking a kind of pool chamber situated in the lower floor. Frowning, she looked away from the window, and when she saw all three zombies were truly dead for good, she decided to give her current inventory a look over before proceeding.

She still had all nine millimetre parabellum rounds she had collected from the station. About thirty rounds total - not counting what she had just reloaded into the .38 - as well as the grenade launcher slung over her shoulder, which was loaded with the second-to-last round, the final napalm shell for it still in her pouch. The heavy revolver Tony had given her was still holstered on her other thigh, fully loaded, with the six spare cartridges in a separate pocket on her pouch...

_Drat._ She had lost the sub-machine gun taken from the S.T.A.R.S. armory, more than likely during the elevator crash.

_Not too great... But not too hopeless, either,_ she concluded.

There were zombies down here, probably more than just the ones in this office, but hopefully not as many as there had been in the police station back above in the city. She was going to have to make every shot count from here on out. If there were other things down here, things as bad as the skinless inside-out monsters like back at the station...

The collegiate girl stopped that train of thought, wanting to avoid it until the possibility became too strong to ignore or deny.

Moving to the left corner of the office, past a small table with a computer and files scattered atop it, as well as some lockers next to the table, Claire spotted an opening in the floor, blocked off by a small metal railing next to the locker's side, the opening itself in the furthest corner of the meeting point of the walls. Getting closer and peering down it, she saw it dropped into a broken lift cart, where she could see small electric sparks discharging. But there were more lights illuminating the room it led down into.

Holstering her revolver, the woman dropped down into the cart before descending the open front of the cart to land in the new room in a low crouch. Rising back to her feet, Claire's grey-blue eyes scanned the new open area: a control room of some kind, by the look of it, with a series of windows lining the wall immediately in front of her.

Frowning, and wary of any more undead that could be lurking in the shadows to her far right, she stepped further in, asking herself, "What is this?"

Before she could ponder her question any further, the biker girl's ears caught a voice, sounding filtered but close by.

_"Sherry... I told you, I cannot leave here until my work is done."_

The college student recognized the voice, belonging to the female scientist she had met only a short while ago: Annette. But Claire blinked as she heard a second voice reply to her.

"That's what you _always_ say..."

The voice was much younger compared to Annette's, and filled with a bitterness no child should ever feel, but Redfield recognized the second speaker all the same.

"Sherry?" she uttered aloud in hope.

Moving quickly in front of the windows where the source of the voices were emitting from, the young woman found herself peering down into a large space situated at least one level below from where she was currently standing. It was filled with piles of garbage and other litter, but there, standing by a relatively cleaner spot, was Sherry.

The relief Claire felt upon seeing the little girl safe and looking unharmed was brief, drowned out by her mother's cold words snapping from the intercom in the upper wall, situated next to a camera.

_"Why didn't you stay in the house?! It was safe there!"_

Giving the intercom an incredulous glare, Claire quickly looked back at Sherry as she called for the girl.

"Hey! Sherry!"

The younger girl either didn't hear her, or more than likely couldn't because of the glass between them, the frantic Redfield's calls being unable to pass through the soundproof barrier.

The blonde child looked pleadingly up at the camera as she spoke again, tone frightened and hurt. "I was scared. Those things were everywhere, a-and-"

_"You should've called the police! That's what we taught you,"_ Annette's voice yelled through the intercom over Sherry's much lower words, filled with impatience and disdain, and Claire felt her heart break as she heard the child sniffle and struggle to keep from breaking down as she desperately went on.

"I did, but nobody came! And you didn't answer your phone-" she pleaded with her parent, but a sudden exasperated sigh stopped Sherry's quivering voice.

"_Sherry... I **don't** have time for this!"_

And then, to Claire's dawning horror and righteous fury, the small red light on the wall-mounted camera flickered out, and the college girl knew that meant Annette had killed the feed, effectively ending the conversation, leaving her frightened daughter to stand alone in the garbage pit she was hiding in. But all that fury died as she watched Sherry suddenly fall to her knees before collapsing on her side, eyes closed, her young face scrunched up in obvious pain.

"Oh no... _Sherry!_" she called out, smacking her fists against the window, which refused to so much as even shake from her strikes. "Sherry, I'm coming!"

Turning away from the windows, the woman ran for the shadowed corner of the room, searching for the door that would take her to the level below and get to Sherry-

-when she froze in her steps at the sight of the huge vault door, not unlike the kind one would see at a bank, while a series of what appeared to be electric power panels were situated on the wall connected to the door, as well as the one opposite of it. Blinking, staring at the sight in utter disbelief, Claire ran to the door, looking it over for some kind of means of opening it, but finding none, the giant slab of steel refusing to even budge when she pushed against it.

Unable to control her ever-mounting frustrations, the furious young woman slammed her fists against the vault door and screamed. "_Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?!_"

Panting, feeling like she was on the verge of tears once again, the college girl inhaled deeply several times, composing herself slowly but surely. She had to reign in her emotions. The last time she had allowed herself to become overwhelmed by her fear for Sherry, she had been nearly killed. She just needed to calm down, and find a way to open this door.

Still breathing deeply, Claire stepped back from the door, and turned to her right to get a better look at the dimly lit part of this monitor area she was in. When she looked at the power panels lining the wall next to the vault door, she paused, brow furrowing. The panels were all open, and long, white objects were sticking out of them...

Walking closer, the pink-vested girl blinked as she realized what she was staring at.

"What in the...? Are these... _chess pieces?_"

Indeed, there were two large electronic plugs sticking out of two of the power panels, the one closest to her bearing a bishop at its tip, and the one to the far right marked by the white horse of a knight. Turning, she looked at the three panels across from the ones she had just checked, and saw that only one was occupied, the panel aligned with the one with the bishop plug, only the plug on this one was a lowly pawn.

Looking back and forth between the set of power panels, Claire saw that the middle one on the wall closest to the door was empty, and the two across from the knight and said empty spot were missing their plugs as well. The biker girl knew very little about chess, but she could see that the rook, king, and queen pieces were the ones missing.

_That vault is locked tight, and these panels are missing their own plugs... There's a connection. I'm sure of it,_ she thought to herself.

Spotting some papers and notes strewn about on a raised section along the wall furthest from the power panels, the college girl quickly moved towards it and began rifling through them, looking for anything that could give her an idea as to where to start looking for the missing plugs, or even an inkling of their purpose. Upon finding a pamphlet from a company called 'Knights Construction Company,' and after briefly glancing inside to confirm her suspicions that the plugs were a part of some elaborate locking mechanism, Claire felt her heart leap into her throat when she found a map of the sewers, which at this point may as well been the Holy Grail itself. Quickly snatching it up and moving into the better lit portion of the monitor room, she spread the map out over a control panel and began poring over its contents.

_There has to be a storage room or utility area where they keep spare plugs for this vault. There just has to be!_ she thought desperately.

When she checked the upper section's layout, she grinned when she saw someone had circled a spot along a wall, and written the word 'rook' in it.

**_Yes!_**_ There must be more panels scattered around, and they'll have the other plugs!_

She desperately didn't want to leave Sherry alone again, but the rational part of her mind argued that the girl wasn't going anywhere, and was relatively safe for the moment. Going over the last portion of the map, which was the lower level of the sewer, Claire felt like her luck was turning around when she spotted a Supplies Storage Room connected to the bottom sewer level, and written in a loopy scrawl under the box outlining the storage room were the words 'spare plugs kept here.'

The relief she felt was almost indescribable. It would take a bit of a while to collect all three plugs, perhaps the most being an hour or more. And while she loathed leaving the child alone again, especially considering she had no idea why the little girl had fallen unconscious like she had, the young woman knew she had no choice if she meant to save her.

Unlike her mother, who had 'no time for this,' Claire reminded herself angrily.

If she saw that woman in the flesh again, Redfield was certain she'd throttle the life out of her...

Going over the maps once again, the college student saw that the fastest way to collect all the plugs would be to leave the Monitor Room she was in now, and from the Water Treatment Pool Room next to it, descend back to the middle section of the sewers where she had first arrived, and take a small lift through the gated door she had passed. Frowning, the redhead remembered that door had been locked securely, and she needed some kind of valve to unlock it. She would just have to check the Treatment Pool Room for anything that could be useful in helping her get around that door.

Nodding, moving away from the maps, the biker girl moved back towards the windows lining the wall, and gazed sadly down at Sherry. The blonde little girl was still curled up on her side, and Claire could still see the scrunched, pained expression contorting her young face.

"Hold on, Sherry... I'll be right there, I promise..." she whispered.

Steeling her shoulders and moving away from the windows, the auburn-haired cyclist headed for the other door that would take her to the Treatment Pool Room, drawing her revolver as she did. Stepping through the door and into the new area, the woman was almost overwhelmed by the powerful chemical aroma filtering about, but after the foul stenches of the sewer and the rotting cesspool Raccoon City had become above, it was almost a relief.

Seeing a large platform had been raised between the section of the floor she was currently standing on, and the one across where she needed to go, Claire quickly found the lever to lower it back down, and with a hard tug, pulled the switch back. The raised platform began to descend, creating a bridge she could cross to the other side. The college student walked a little ways forward as the platform continued to descend, when she caught something colored red laying atop some crates piled in the corner.

Unable to believe her luck, Claire saw it was the very same t-bar shaped valve handle she would need to unlock the gate blocking her off from the lift to the upper section of the sewers.

"I'd say my luck is turning around, but that's not saying much since coming to Raccoon..." Claire muttered to herself, picking up the valve as the platform bridge finished descending. The key was heavy, but just small enough to fit snugly in the extra pack she had found in the police station storage room, though it dragged down just a bit.

Crossing the bridge, revolver held low at her side when she spotted a still corpse situated in a corner parallel to the bridge, but well away from the door she needed to go through. Entering through it, Claire arrived in a descending staircase that would take her back to the middle level of the sewers... though she paused at the top when saw not one, but two swaying shadows just slightly standing away from the base of the bottom of the steps.

"Of course..." she mused to herself.

She would take care of this quickly but calmly. She wasn't going to let herself get cornered again like in the kennel back at the station.

Thinking of that dark room, and the darkly-dressed swordsman who had called himself Gilver, made the young woman descend the stairs just a tad bit faster than she had planned, but as soon as she was at the bottom, she raised her handgun and squeezed off two shots at the back of the head of the first ghoul, then two more for the one in overalls that had begun to turn towards her. Both bodies crumpled into bloody heaps, and Claire moved over them for another control panel along the wall.

Pulling it down caused the gate cutting her off from the earlier sluice she had waded through to raise back up, giving her a clear shot to the small ledge ahead where she would need to the t-bar valve to unlock the gate. It was less than thirty to forty feet away. A quick walk, even with the waist-high sewage to slow her down... but for some reason, Claire found she couldn't move all of a sudden.

Peering down into the sluice, she couldn't help but feel... that something was _off._ But she couldn't tell what, or see any obvious danger. Glancing down at the nasty wastewater, she saw the ripples from the gate rising up were already settling, the dirty water going still once again, so there wasn't anything moving under the water's surface... which was a horrifying thought she wished had never occurred to her.

Inhaling deeply through her mouth, the young woman eased herself back into the sewage waters, keeping her revolver raised slightly in front of her, both hands clasping the handle tightly. She would slog quickly through this filthy wastewater, and be on her way to collect the first plug, leaving whatever was giving her goosebumps behind down here where it belonged. With that decided, Claire began walking forward, her eyes scanning over every mound of garbage and waste for anything that might be lurking under the filth, waiting to strike out-

-and as she passed a large, open sewage pipe emerging from the wall, an ungodly growl issued from deep inside, the sound making the suddenly-startled girl freeze up, her grey-blue eyes snapping towards the source. Eyes widening, the young woman could only begin to feebly back away when three large mounds of flesh grasped the corner of the pipe, just as _something _pulled itself free from the pipe in a gush of sewage. Claire didn't get a good look at it, only knowing for sure whatever it was, it was much, _much,_ bigger than her.

The biker had only managed to take two or three forced steps back when the sewage water in front of the pipe exploded as the huge creature emerged from the filthy wastewater. Redfield could only stare in wide-eyed terror at this new creature. Its left shoulder was covered in a disgusting mound of tumorous-looking flesh, while its connecting arm was a huge slab of meat with gripping appendages where a person's fingers would be, the small, domed head attached to a long, prehensile neck that extended out as the creature's snake-like face seemed to _grin_ maliciously down on her.

"_What the FUCK?!_" she cried out, horrified by this grotesque new monster.

Claire continued to try and back up, never even thinking to try to use her revolver or the grenade launcher over her shoulder, this new monstrosity filling her with such terror she never considered to fight, only flight. To escape from this abomination before she learned the hard way what it was capable of doing.

But the beast was fast. _Much_ faster than her.

Its massive left arm shot out, its huge hand encompassing her entire waist as it snatched her, and pulled her close to its hideous, sneering face.

Claire screamed and struggled, slapping her hands against the massive mitt clutching her, when her eyes glanced back up and saw the horrible face _split open_, like some obscene flower made of flesh, a long second mouth opening from inside it, where hundreds of maggots began to spill out into the sewage underneath it, the maw beginning to close in on her own face.

Completely overcome with terror, the trapped, helpless girl screamed out louder than she ever had before-

-when something crimson collided with the creature's face with such force that the woman felt the massive hand gripping her was torn off of her waist, leaving her to fall into the sewage with a splash as the beast was knocked back almost a dozen feet. A horrible, shrill screeching began to issue from the monster, followed by the sounds of metal swinging through the air, and the slick squelching of flesh being rendered to shreds.

Scrambling up from under the water with a sharp gasp, the soaked girl briefly glanced at the spot where the monster had been sent, wiping the damp, auburn bangs away from her face, and saw glowing orange fluid - its blood - was pouring out of dozens of cuts as something gleaming darkly cut into the mutated, bulbous flesh again and again.

Not wanting to see anymore, Claire dragged herself towards the ledge, ignoring the pained screams of the monster, frantically reaching for her side pack where she had placed the t-bar valve, when the shrill screeching finally ceased with a weak, dying cry, followed by a heavy splash... followed by another, and _another_ as whatever had killed the monster began to approach her.

Collapsing against the wall, the young woman weakly raised her dripping revolver, her hands shaking as she could only imagine whatever evil that could kill such a creature so quickly would now turn its attentions on her...

And then she saw _exactly_ what had killed that monster as it slowly stepped into view.

Her eyes widened, brimming tears beginning to fall once again, the hands holding her handgun going limp, the firing arm falling with a soft clatter.

It couldn't be... It just _couldn't!..._ But the proof stood directly in front of her.

With a trembling voice, she whispered a single name. "T... _Tony?!_"

* * *

_"Another day, another dollar. Another job, another broken gun... And another half of my pay swiped by Enzo's fat ass."_

_After working for him as long as he had, the man known as Tony Redgrave to the mercenary patronage of the underworld dive Bobby's Cellar was rather used to Enzo Ferino running off with the loot. Didn't mean it wasn't annoying, but he knew that little wannabe Italian like the back of his hand at this point. And after any major job, there was one place you could **always** find Enzo tossing around Benjamins like leaves falling from a tree._

_With a bemused smirk, the young merc glanced up at the glowing pink neon sign brightly displaying the name of Enzo's favorite stripper joint, 'Love Planet,' across the street for all to see. Tony himself wasn't a patron of this particular club - mostly because they didn't serve his favorite treat - but he had found the diminutive informant here enough times, the workers basically thought of him as a regular._

_The man in red walked towards the door, wondering to himself which girl was performing for Enzo on this night, and was about to shove the door itself open when the rumbling engine of a Harley caught his attention._

_Turning his icy blue eyes away from the door, Redgrave saw said motorcycle pulling up in front of the Bullseye Bar across from Love Planet. The youth arched a fine white brow as his gaze drank in the motorcycle's rider._

**_Hel-lo, baby..._**_ he thought to himself as his jaw slacked a slight bit._

_He was used to seeing the burly, roughneck types on bikes in this part of town, but the rider of this Harley was a much more aesthetically pleasing compared to them._

_This rider was a lithe woman wrapped **rather** nicely in tight jeans, knee-high brown leather riding boots, with a wicked black leather jacket with stylized flames along the arms, and black riding gloves. As the leather-clad biker rose from her vehicle, she reached up for her helmet and pulled it off. Tony actually felt his heart quicken a beat when he watched the girl's long auburn hair fall out, pulled tightly into a high tail. Despite the rather serious, somewhat annoyed, and intense expression on her lovely face, it did nothing to dissuade him that she was perhaps one of the most beautiful women he had ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on._

**_A redhead, huh?_**_ he thought to himself with a grin, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jacket._

_Red just happened to be his favorite color._

_The babe in leather never even looked his way, seeming to be entirely focused on the doors to the bar in front of her. She stormed for them quickly, disappearing shortly after._

_Disappointed to see such a lovely visage leave so soon, Tony glanced back towards the doors for Love Planet, before looking back at the direction of the Bullseye Bar as he rubbed his chin in thought._

"..._Eh, he's not goin' anywhere," he mused to himself._

_Enzo could wait a few more minutes._

_Moving away from the entrance to Love Planet, the young crimson-coated man followed the redheaded biker at a leisurely pace. Judging by the look on her face, she seemed to be in a bad mood. Maybe offering to buy her a drink would help brighten her up?..._

_Pushing the doors to the Bullseye open, Tony strode inside, giving the bartender a nod that the man didn't even acknowledge aside from a slight glare. The pale-haired merc turned away from the front of the counter to look over by the tables nestled in the far back. Lo and behold, there was his redheaded maiden in black leather, supporting a red-faced blonde as they tried to ditch three rather large and unsavory-looking gentlemen; the more average type of patrons one expected at a bar like Bullseye._

_He hovered close to the bar, content to just sit back and watch for the moment. There was just the faintest sense of tension in the air, and one wrong move on his part could set the whole thing alight. Better to play it by ear-_

_-and then one of the large men placed a meaty paw on the redhead's shoulder._

_Wrong move._

_In a flourish of black, the redhead's left leg shot out, nailing the first meathead square in the face, and even from almost twenty feet away, the youth heard a rather satisfying ***crunch*** of cartilage breaking. The first guy pitched backwards, knocking one of his buddies over while the stupefied other tried to lunge at the lethal, leather-wearing vixen while shouting a rather ungentlemanly-like curse at her. Her response was a fitting two-hit combo, followed by a devastating spin kick that gave Tony a rather flattering view of her backside._

**_Ooh, girl's got some moves! _**_he thought to himself in delight, rubbing his chin as he watched the show with rapt pleasure. Most other guys would have tried to intervene by now, but the white-haired gunslinger could easily tell the biker girl had the situation under control._

_And then the first creep she knocked on his ass scrambled back up, blood gushing down his crushed nose as a small object in one hand flashed silver. The telltale sign of a switchblade._

**_Aaaaand that's my cue, _**_the laid-back merc thought to himself._

_It was all fun and games until someone poked an eye out._

_The young woman had backed up a step, moving her left arm in front of the other blonde girl in a gesture of protection. But by the time the thug with the knife had taken a single menacing step towards the two young women, Tony had cleared the distance from where he had been watching the brawl, his own gloved hand snatching the wrist of the knife holder in that same instant._

_"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with knives?" he chided the dumbfounded brute before his other hand struck out, a single punch - more like a light tap, really - striking the guy square in the chest, and sending him flying to the wall hard, where he crumpled to the floor with a whimper, his knife landing point-first on the floor._

_Sneering at the downed thug, the young man turned his icy gaze onto his two friends, who were quivering in their boots as they stared back. It was almost hilarious how these two much larger-looking men were scared shitless of the red-clad youth who had just knocked their buddy flat on his ass with a single punch._

_Wagging a finger in a mock scolding manner, he chided the terrified duo, "Remember, boys, it ain't nice to put your hands on a lady without her consent."_

_Then his gaze narrowed into a glare, his smirk vanishing._

"_Now get lost," he ordered, all cheeky mockery gone, his tone as ice cold as his eyes. "I ever see any of you pullin' this crap around here again, I'll give ya a personal refresher."_

_That was all the warning they needed, the two chumps dashing through the connecting doors to Love Planet, leaving their companion unconscious where he lay._

_Tony scoffed, unimpressed but thoroughly amused. "Wimps..."_

_Behind him, the blonde screeched in glee. "**THAT WASS SHOOO COOOOOOLLL!**"_

_The crimson-coated merc turned and saw the blonde girl was jumping up and down while waving her arms, while the redhead was staring in a kind of stunned awe, much to his delight._

_Closing his eyes and shrugging casually, he replied easily, "Eh. They weren't so tough."_

_"I had that under control, you know," the more sober of the two girls spoke up suddenly, her voice leveled, but Tony could easily hear that undertone of annoyance._

**_Ah, the type that doesn't need rescuing,_**_ he realized._

_She did have the situation under wraps, but a knife being whipped out made the odds more than a little unfair for her._

_Meeting her glare with an easy smile and affirming nod, the snowy-haired youth agreed easily, "Yeah, you did, actually. That was a pretty sweet kick. But when I saw him whip out that puny excuse of a knife, well... I had to do the gentlemanly thing, and get in on the action. Didn't wanna risk him nicking that beautiful face of yours, now."_

_Seeing her blink and her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink made her earlier annoyance at him all worth it._

_The blonde, who Tony could tell had a few too many drinks with how red her face was, promptly jumped onto the other girl in an exuberant hug with a giggle. "**Oooh,** Claire-Bear, yer sho cute when you blush!"_

**_Claire, huh?..._** _the youth thought to himself, liking the sound of the girl's name._

_Unable to keep his own smirk from returning, he added in a low tone, "Heh, glad to see I ain't the only one who thinks so..."_

_His icy orbs met the redhead's, Claire's, own lovely grey-blue eyes, and to his pleasure, her cheeks went from pink to beat red. It was his favorite color, after all..._

_"**Okay,** fun time's over!" she suddenly exclaimed, escaping her friend's hold, snatching the blonde girl's wrist before beginning to drag her towards the exit while continuing to speak. "As exciting as this all was, we still have class in the morning. And **no,** you're not skipping out again just because you'll be hungover."_

_"But I wanna watch the pretty man flirt with you **mooore!**" the other girl whined, and Redgrave had to resist the urge to burst out laughing at her whiny tone of voice, his eyes glinting mischievously when he saw Claire's cheeks flush a deep crimson._

_Letting out a few chuckles while slipping his left hand into his jacket's pocket, the young man hooked his right over his shoulder, indicating the doors to Love Planet before speaking again. "Much as I'd love to stay and do just that, I'm afraid business beckons."_

_His eyes caught Claire's again, and judging by the look she was giving him, that was probably the wrong thing to say._

**_Crap! Salvage, salvage!_** _his mind screamed at him._

_"But, hey, uh..." he said quickly, resisting the urge to wince at the stutter in his voice._

_Time to make his pitch. And after that, it was Claire-Bear's call._

_"If you got any free time tomorrow, I'd love to treat you to lunch."_

_There, he said it. Having looks made it easy to draw the ladies in, but Redgrave would easily admit his luck with women wasn't exactly the best..._

_The leather-clad biker girl blinked at his offer, her lapse allowing her drunken friend to sidle up to her and loudly whisper, "Do **iiiiiiiit,** gurrl! He did just shave yer life..."_

**_Well, at least I've got someone rootin' for me,_**_ he thought to himself, his grin returning._

_"And a pretty close shave, at that."_

_Claire's expression softened just ever so slightly, and the white-haired youth could tell she was considering it. An extra push would either make or break her decision. Tony always considered his luck rotten, but damn if he didn't love to gamble, so he was putting all his chips on this next line._

_"C'mon. I'll make it worth your while," he implored, tilting his head to the side with an amiable smirk. "I guarantee the place'll be way less shadier than this dump. I'll even throw in a strawberry sundae for your troubles... Whaddya say?"_

_Who could resist a strawberry sundae? Next to pizza, it was the best snack in the whole damn world!_

_The young woman gave him one final look over, her expression unreadable, and for a moment, Tony was sure his gamble had failed. Then she met his gaze again, smiling softly._

_"Alright, hot shot... I get out of class tomorrow at 2."_

_Like when he had first laid eyes on her, the young man felt his heart quicken again, this time in excited victory. Unable to help himself, he let out a victorious laugh, his right fist pumping through the air._

_"**Yes! **You won't regret it, I promise! I know this great place called Fredi's. Trust me, you'll love their-" he stated in a rush, when another voice spoke over his own._

_"That's all well and dandy..." a new voice interrupted, a deeper, gruffer one. Tony's words stopped as he and the two women looked towards the origin of the voice, spotting the lone bartender watching them with an angered expression._

_"**But who's gonna pay for that table and the broken glasses?!**" he demanded, indicating said table and piles of broken glasses behind the trio._

**_Oh yeah. Forgot all about that,_**_ Redgrave thought to himself with a chuckle while extending his hand towards the barkeep._

_"Ah, put it on Enzo's tab. You know he's good for it."_

_The bartender scoffed, resuming his glass washing, but nodded, seemingly satisfied._

**_Speakin' of which, better go get my pay 'fore Enzo uses that for coverage,_**_ Tony decided. He didn't want to end the conversation with Claire so soon, but he still had tomorrow to look forward to._

_Looking back at both women, he dismissed himself. "With that, ladies, I'll see ya around."_

_His gaze lingered on Claire for another moment before he turned and walked for the doors to Love Planet._

_Behind him, the redhead's voice called after him, "**Wait!** I didn't give you my na-"_

_"Already know it, '**Claire-Bear,**'" he called back, and he couldn't resist the grin from forming as he easily imagined her blushing once again._

_Right as he reached the door, the biker girl called for him again. "Well, you know mine, but I don't know yours."_

_That made him stop, and he had to resist the urge to smack himself for not giving the girl his name._

**_Smooooooth, Redgrave. Smooth,_**_ he thought to himself, his smile returning as he turned to face her._

_"...Anthony. Anthony Redgrave. But you can call me Tony."_

_He hated giving out his full name, and he usually never did... But there was something about this girl that made him lax up on that internal rule for once._

_With that done, he turned and pushed the doors open, leaving the two young women behind as he stepped into the brighter new room, his ears assaulted by the generic sultry pop music most party girls liked to dance too._

_Now to find that fat little Italian wannabe, and get his money..._

_He'd need it for his date tomorrow, after all, unable to help his excited grin._

* * *

_"Well, you certainly know how to pick an interesting place," Claire murmured as she took the seat opposite of his own, his favorite booth in the far back of the fifties-style diner that was his favorite place to pick up lunch outside of Bobby's._

_Tony Redgrave grinned at her words as he reclined on the comfortable seat, his icy eyes glancing over his date to take in the usual sites of the diner._

_It was a little more packed than he was used to, several other booths across from their own occupied, as well as a few seats at the bar were filled as well, but he supposed that was to be expected, given the time. He liked to come earlier if he could, but today was an exception._

_Looking back at his date, the young man replied, "Told ya it'd be less shady than that dump from last night."_

_That got a small chuckle from the young woman across from him, which he took as a good sign. Compared to last night, both were more conspicuously dressed as well. Claire had traded her form-fitting leather for denim jeans and a black crop top under a red leather jacket, with Redgrave wearing jeans as well, along with a black t-shirt under his green denim jacket. While he normally wore a scarf with this get-up, it was just a tad too warm for it today._

_Before he could say anything else, one of the waitresses rolled up to their booth, pen and paper pad in hand._

_"Heya, Tony! **Ooh,** y'got sum company today, I see!" the bubbly brunette Cindy espied with a bright smile to match her striped white and pink uniform. Flipping to a fresh patch of paper, the waitress inquired, "What'll it be for the cute couple?"_

_Claire's cheeks grew a lovely if faint shade of pink, making Tony's grin widen as he held up his right hand, index and middle fingers raised._

_"Two of Fredi's specials."_

_Cindy quickly jotted that down, flashed them both a thousand-watt smile and said, "Be right back with 'em!" before promptly rolling off for the back of the bar._

_The young woman watched the waitress go before looking back at Tony with a sly expression, a fine red brow arched._

_"Friendly with the staff?" she asked, tone cool and leveled, but the youth easily caught her implication._

_Smirk returning, he waved his hand while replying, "I leave a nice tip every now and then. Tends to make a guy popular around here."_

_Claire scoffed good naturedly before saying, "Is **that** what they're calling it now?"_

_That got a hearty laugh from Tony. This girl was quick-witted, too. Brains to go with beauty, it seemed._

_Meeting her gaze, the platinum-haired youth decided to use this window of opportunity to get to know her better before Fredi's specials arrived._

_"So, what brings a nice, studious college girl like you to a dump of a dive like Bullseye's?" he asked._

_His date brushed a lock of her fiery hair behind her ear, letting out a deep sigh before answering. "My booze-loving roommate. She likes to 'loosen up' every now and then, so sometimes I have to pick her up when it's clear she can't get herself home safely."_

_The young man nodded thoughtfully, smiling genuinely as he stated, "Lovely **and** considerate. Though I take it you don't have to fight off your roomie's drinking buddies every other night?"_

_Claire laughed at that, shaking her head. "No, not usually. But my brother made sure I could defend myself if I ever needed to."_

**_Ah, a protective sibling,_**_ Tony noted._

"_You two close?" he asked._

_The girl nodded, smiling happily as she replied, "Of course. He's helping me pay my tuition. I didn't want him to, at first, but he's part of this elite police unit - has been for the last year and half - so I don't argue with him about spending so much money on my education anymore."_

**_Uh-oh. Cop brother,_**_ the young mercenary noted, his grin fading slightly. He might have to omit a few details of his own line of work, just in case..._

"_So what exactly do **you** do, Mr. Redgrave?" she asked suddenly, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she studied him._

_Tony was silent for a moment, resisting the urge to cringe at her calling him 'Mr. Redgrave,' while also trying to find the right way to explain to his date what he did for a living without having to use the terms 'mercenary,' and 'gun-for-hire'._

_His grin returned as it hit him._

"_I'm a handyman. Odd jobs, jack-of-all-trades; that kinda stuff. Don't really have a 'permanent' place of employment, so I just go where my agent sends me," the young man explained coolly. "And seriously, just call me Tony."_

_It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't necessarily a lie either._

_Claire blinked, before giving him a side look._

_"A handyman... who frequents bars and strip clubs for 'business?'" she asked, tone laced with disbelief._

_Redgrave scoffed in response before saying, "I had to find my middleman, who had my half of the pay. He finds me jobs, takes a cut as a finder's fee, while I get the rest. Sometimes he gets a little **too** ahead of himself, and races off with my half before he's given it to me."_

_The young woman blinked, frowning as she took that info in._

_"Doesn't sound like how an average handyman gets paid..." she mused quietly._

_To that, Tony grinned. "Well, let's just say there ain't nothin' average about me..."_

_Before Claire could respond to that, Cindy rolled back up, a tray in one hand with their order. "Here ya go sweeties! Two of Fredi's specials! Enjoy!"_

_After setting the two desserts down, the young man's eyes ravenously took in one of his all-time favorite meal, and the reason he loved coming to Fredi's. The man was a master of his culinary craft, forging the most delicious-_

"_Strawberry sundae?" the college student said aloud, looking at the dish in disbelief before looking back at her date. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd throw one of these in."_

_Redgrave laughed again, eagerly picking up his spoon while saying, "And it's my treat, sweetheart! Enjoy the best dessert in the city."_

_He was about to dive into his own when he saw the girl hesitate._

"_Somethin' the matter?" he asked._

**_Crap..._**_ he thought when he saw the redhead's expression._

_"Well, um... I'm not really into sweets, you see..." she admitted._

_Tony leaned back from his own sundae while replying, "Oh... Well, I mean, it's fine if it's not your thing. I'll just call Cindy over so you can order what you want-"_

"**_No,_**_ no, you don't need to do that! I can pay for my own meal," Claire interjected._

_He shook his head at that. "Nuh-uh. A gentleman always pays for a lady's meal. Like I said, it's my treat."_

_Seeing her expression was still apprehensive, a thought hit him, making his sly grin return._

"_Tell ya what: take a spoonful of that stuff. You still don't like it, I'll let you order your own meal, but I'm still payin' for it. You like it, it's all yours, and I'll still foot the bill... What do ya say? Can't lose either way."_

_Claire mulled it over for a moment, before picking up a spoon._

"_Well, one bite can't hurt, I suppose... Still feel bad you're footing the bill, though..." She murmured that last part to herself before scooping a bit of the ice cream up, and into her mouth._

_She blinked after swallowing, her eyes widening. _"_Whoa... Hey, this is pretty good!"_

_"**Riiiiight?**" he agreed with another hearty laugh._

"_It's sweet, but not very bitter. And the ice cream's chilled, but not frozen over! Wow, this really is good!" Claire declared before taking another bite._

_Laughing, the young man caught the proprietor of the diner, the man Fredi himself, washing a glass behind the bar. The owner gave a pleased smirk as he met Tony's thumbs-up before going back to his own business._

_"I told ya, babe," he said as he reached for his own sundae. "Best dessert in the-"_

_But he stopped suddenly, blinking. It was suddenly too warm in the diner... And he could smell something. Something acrid, stinging his eyes, and choking his breath..._

_Smoke._

_The temperature in the diner continued to rise, but no one seemed to notice it aside from Tony, all the patrons, waitresses, and Claire none the wiser as the blue clear sky outside became an angry, inflamed red._

_And then..._

_Flames erupted all around him._

_The restaurant became engulfed in flames, the various patrons, Cindy the waitress, Fredi at the bar counter, and Claire across from him all vanishing in a crackle of red, yellow, and orange, the cool air replaced with burning smoke, making it impossible to breath._

_Unable to help himself, Tony staggered back, realizing he was no longer sitting at his preferred booth but standing up, his blue eyes frantically looking from one inflamed spot to another. He was no longer at Fredi's, but standing in the hall of a home in the midst of burning away. The white-haired man blinked, his breaths erratic, his throat threatening to close up as he inhaled mouthfuls of smoke and ash._

_Then the fires flickered, the air rushing as something moved close by._

_Tony's gaze snapped in the direction of the movement-_

_-and his eyes widened when he saw a beautiful blonde woman in a dark red dress leading a small boy, no older than eight, by hand to a closet. She hid him inside it, before stepping back, a pained smile briefly forming on her pink lips before it became a forlorn expression._

_Her mouth moved, but the young man couldn't hear any of her words, the roar of the crackling flames drowning them out._

_Unable to help himself, he moved towards the woman and child, his eyes lingering on her for another moment before turning towards the boy._

_He was small, dressed in a red t-shirt and dark shorts, with no footwear but socks on his feet..._

_And his tear-filled eyes were an icy blue, so much like his own... and his long, snow-colored locks were identical to his._

_Before he could think further on this, the woman stood up and closed the closet doors before turning and dashing into the burning hall._

_Tony bowed his head as he heard her voice, desperately calling a name unfamiliar to him..._

_And then the man closed his eyes in grief as her pleading shout became a scream of terror and pain..._

* * *

His eyes snapped open, the images of the home consumed in burning flames flashing briefly in his mind, the sound of the woman's scream abruptly ending as soon as it had begun, her voice still echoing in his ears.

A single word slipped out his bloody lips, carried on the faintest whisper.

"_Mother..._"

Tony Redgrave blinked, becoming acutely aware of how uncomfortable his entire body felt, especially around the front of his abdomen and along his back, with several sharp points piercing through his left arm and both legs. Blinking again, his senses slowly waking back up with him, the red-coated mercenary became acutely aware of the familiar, coppery taste of blood in his mouth, the odor of it and the metallic tang of ozone in the air helping him come back to reality at a fast pace.

Glancing down at his right arm, he blinked again when he caught sight of not one, but _several_ rusty pieces of rebar jammed through his abdomen, a few more emerging from various spots around his legs.

"Aw, c'mon... _Really?_ Twice... in one day?..." he asked himself aloud, his voice low and faint, but carried more annoyance than pain as one would expect someone in his situation to react to.

Glancing at his left arm, and finding it - like his right - free of any impalements, the gunslinger slowly flexed his hands, trying to get feeling back into them. After a few moments, he was able to lift his arms with only minor discomfort. The real agony came as he slowly began pulling himself free from the metal, the bloodied youth gritting his jaw down hard enough to draw fresh blood as he slowly pushed himself forward inch by painful inch, more blood spilling from the various holes as he tore them open wider than they already were. The pain was beyond description, but he had a high tolerance for it, and it helped him focus on his goal of freeing himself.

Finally, with a terrible, fleshy ripping sound and a swallowed scream, the snowy-haired youth successfully yanked himself free from the various shattered pipes and rebars that had run him through. Redgrave collapsed on the floor with a heavy thump, the man coughing harshly as his body began spasming, the numerous holes in his flesh knitting themselves closed in rapid order, more of his blood splashing onto the floor and dripping off of the broken fixtures he had torn himself free of. When the fresh torrents of agony subsided, Tony pushed himself onto his knees before rising shakily onto his feet with a few stumbling steps.

Free from the broken machinery that had entrapped him, the gunslinger took in his new surroundings, finding himself in an empty open space. The ruined remains of an elevator was behind him, a broken railing not far from it with an open hole in the floor, and a door directly across from where he was standing. Tony only absently noted these details, however, his narrowed ice-blue eyes scanning for something else he couldn't find. Or rather, _someone_ else.

"_Claire?_" he called, voice rough and low.

Only silence, occasionally broken by the flicker of sparks from broken wiring from the crashed elevator.

His gaze looked over the room in its entirety once again, but there was no sign of the college student, or the young girl she had taken into her charge to protect, both of them gone.

At first, all his mind could do was frantically grasp at the fading remnants of the all-too familiar nightmare that haunted him in his troubled sleep. But like all dreams, it was already fading away the longer he stood awake. Only faint echoes of heat, smoke... and a woman's screams remained with him, and in short notice, they were gone as well, leaving him confused, and his heart heavy and aching.

Reality slowly began to come back to him as he collected himself, rolling his shoulders to pop some aching joints as the mercenary recalled what had happened. Tony had found Claire with the little girl, Sherry, in the basement of the orphanage that corrupt police chief had taken her to, and they had discovered a elevator deep beneath it... when that monster he had fought in the power plant underneath the police station had attacked him from behind, impaling him with its new claws. It had thrown him aside, charging for the two girls as they retreated into the elevator cart. The youth then recalled dragging himself up, and chasing after the beast as it knocked the cart off of its rails. They had landed in this new area, the cart destroyed, Claire thrown out of it and knocked senseless.

He remembered lunging for the monster, consumed in fury over its attack on not only him but his lover. The beast, however, had transformed into a newer form, becoming stronger than it was in their previous fight. With only a swat, it had thrown him aside, knocking him into the ruins of the elevator, impaling him, and leaving him for dead. His vision had gone from red to black, and the last thing he saw was the towering creature looming closer towards the terrified Sherry and defenseless Claire...

Now there was no sign of either of them. No blood, aside from his own, to indicate any type of pitched struggle. No shell casings from any of his girlfriend's weapons. Nothing.

It did nothing to clear up his worry.

Resisting the urge to spit a string of curses, Tony instead looked himself over, checking for his weapons. The holsters for his three handguns, the Beretta, Colt, and the Desert Eagle, were all still on his person, covered in a bit of blood, but perfectly usable. The Remington and Woozy had fallen amongst the ruin and debris of the crashed elevator. As he picked up the shotgun, the gunslinger saw the stock had cracked badly, more than likely from the impact of the crash. A single quick swipe with Woozy saw the broken part cut away, Redgrave slinging both weapons back over his shoulder where they hung across his back, ready for him to snatch at a moment's notice.

Glancing at the lone door across from him, he decided that it was probably the best place to start searching for Claire and the girl. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, so picking up their trail wasn't going to be easy. Drawing the Beretta as he stumbled forward just in case something unsavory was lurking behind the door instead, Redgrave grasped the handle, and found it unlocked when it turned easily.

Pushing the door open, the man saw that there was a small utility space currently doubling as an office behind it, with a computer atop a small table, two chairs in front of it - one tucked in, the other knocked over - with three large filing cabinets situated in the same corner. A second door was directly across from the one he had entered from, with a large storage container and rolling tray to its right, another table with various boxes containing files and other folders and such stacked atop it, and a large cabinet filled with plastic containers, folded towels, and blankets filling the boards.

Frowning, the white-haired man in red stepped further inside the room, lowering his sidearm as he did, icy orbs scanning the area over, before he made for the only other door. Reaching it, he found, to his disappointment, that this one was firmly locked, the handle refusing to budge.

Stepping back and giving the door a quick look over, Tony debated knocking it down and investigating further, but something in his gut was telling him it was a waste of time, his instincts telling him that Claire hadn't come through here. Turning towards the table with the computer, the mercenary ran the back of his gloved hand over the monitor, and when he felt no lingering warmth or tell-tale tug of static, he realized the computer had been off for some time, further cementing to him no one had been in this room in a while. Remembering that broken railing and hole in the floor next to the crashed elevator, Redgrave decided that was his logical follow-up towards finding his girlfriend, and turned away from the computer to face the door he had entered through-

-when he saw the a whiteboard attached to the wall with a typewriter atop a stacked pile of boxes, the board covered with various notes tacked about its surface, and a lone file sitting against the board. Gaze narrowing with a frown, Tony approached the board, picking up the file and flipping it open. At the very top of the first page in bold lettering were the words:

**"Report: About "G."**

The young man blinked, the simple letter sparking his memories, recalling his brief conversation with the federal agent named Ada, and the tape recorder he had found on the body of the reporter working for her, Ben Bertolucci. The interview he had recorded had been with a woman scientist working for Umbrella, Annette Birkin, discussing the goal of Ada's mission:

The G-Virus.

Before he really knew what he was doing, Tony's eyes began poring over the words in the report.

**The G-Virus clinical trial will be entering its final phase very soon. Before "G"—the new creature that will surpass humans—is born, allow me to predict a few things about its biology and biological functions.**

**Intelligence**

**The subject's intelligence will begin to drop immediately, with their linguistic abilities disappearing within a matter of days. Finally, they will lose their capacity to reason and their humanity. G will be a creature of pure instinct, driven only by a need to survive and reproduce.**

**Physical Abilities**

**Due to its unusually accelerated cell division—evolution—it will be highly adaptable to any environment. Furthermore, with its amazing ability to repair itself through regeneration, it will be extremely difficult to completely kill it with any conventional small firepower.**

**Reproductive Behavior**

**G's most remarkable feature will be its intense desire to reproduce. It will instinctively search out humans with DNA that closest matches its own and implant an embryo in them. But the chances of success are very low and if the DNA is not a close enough of a match, an underdeveloped G creature will be produced instead. I suppose the only ones who might be a close enough of a match would be any biological children of the subject, though...**

As the mercenary finished reading the brief report, his mind began to fill in the missing pieces of the mystery of the monster he had battled in the power plant: the same creature that had attacked him again before they reached the sewers, its form changing - _evolving _\- into a more powerful state as it had.

When Redgrave had first thought the creature defeated and dead, he had wondered if it was some strange mutation of the disease Umbrella had inflicted upon Raccoon City - the 't-Virus,' as Ada had called it - but this report had given him the answer. It was not the t-Strain that had created that beast, but the G, the more powerful variant the woman needed to use as evidence against Umbrella.

Throwing the report aside in disgust, Tony made for the door, his mind racing as he continued to put the pieces together, giving him a much better view of the bigger picture. Somehow, both of Umbrella's viruses had leaked, the t-Variant infecting Raccoon's populace. But the G-Strain had only been inflicted upon one person, as far as he knew, but one was more than enough with how powerful that creature was.

As he shoved he door open to arrive back in the open area with the crashed elevator, the crimson-coated merc remembered the grisly remains of Chief Irons in the orphanage. He had made a crack at the time, but it was now apparent that Irons had the misfortune of encountering the G-Carrier, who had implanted an embryo in the poor bastard. But because he wasn't a genetic match to the Carrier, the embryo had erupted from the man's torso while he had still been alive.

As Tony headed for the broken railing, his eyes suddenly widened, and the man himself came to a stop. Another memory flickered in his mind's eye.

After the G-Carrier had thrown him aside and charged for the elevator, he had heard Sherry's young voice scream two words.

_"**DADDY, NO!**"_

"'Daddy?...'" he whispered to himself in dawning horror. "_...Ho-ly shit._"

Sherry's father _was_ the G-Carrier. The monster he had become was searching for her to infect her due to their relationship as father and daughter, that simple connection damning the little girl because of the virus's twisted designs. The thought filled him with a combination of nausea, horror, and growing outrage. That child had already been through a nightmare simply surviving the City of the Dead Raccoon had become. To have a monster with such sick intents stalking her, on top of it being her father...

His hatred for Umbrella only continued to grow by the second.

The need to find Claire and Sherry became more pressing with each passing second, and Redgrave refused to waste any more time thinking about Umbrella's evil schemes. The white-haired swordsman took another step towards the broken railing and the hole under it-

-when a massive wave of pressure washed over him.

The man stopped in his tracks, his ice blue eyes widening as the already barely-functioning lights in the room flickered once before going out, plunging the room into heavy darkness. Then the darkness gave way, the light returning within a few more flickers. The pressure bearing down on him remained, but now he could feel he was no longer alone.

Craning his head to his left, Tony's gaze-

-was met by a pair of dark eyes colder than his own, their owner's face hidden under a swath of bandages wrapped tightly over his head, the suit he wore darker than the shadows he lurked in, a sheathed katana clutched in his left hand while his right was tucked in a pocket of his jacket.

The two continued to stare at each other in silence for a beat.

Then, the darkly-dressed swordsman called Gilver broke it. "...You're finally awake."

Tony held the mysterious interloper's gaze for another moment before closing his eyes, allowing his lips to curve in a smirk as he turned to face the fellow swordsman entirely.

"Watching me while I sleep? You're takin' this whole rivalry thing a bit too seriously, don'tcha think?"

Gilver's own eyes narrowed at that, the dark orbs watching the man in red's every move without fail.

"You've taken a considerable amount of... punishment... since arriving in this necropolis, haven't you?" he inquired.

Shrugging and waving his words off, the gunslinger scoffed, "Eh, I've had worse beatings from old ladies. Nice to know you care, though."

With that, the mercenary opened his eyes again, his smirk falling away, unwilling to verbally dance with this strange man, and waste anymore time.

"So it _was_ you. You threw me my sword back at the power plant," he stated.

To that, the other mercenary nodded. "Of course. It seems in your haste, you... chose to leave it behind... Rather careless of you to throw aside such a valuable memento."

_Memento?_ Redgrave asked himself, eyes narrowing in confusion.

He had carried that sword with him for as long as he could remember, but had never considered the idea of someone leaving it to him...

Gilver's voice broke Tony away from his thoughts, though his next comment sent a spark of panic through the young mercenary.

"But then again... you seem to have trouble holding on to such precious hand-me-downs, don't you?" he remarked as he gestured to the other man his right index finger.

_Hand-me-downs?... Wait, where's...?!_

Before he could stop himself, Redgrave found his right hand moving up towards his chest, right on the spot just below his neck where the silver chain and red gem charm always hung securely...

But not now, as there nothing there but his own uncovered skin.

Eyes shooting down to confirm his fears, Tony couldn't stop himself from hissing out a panicked and furious curse of, "_Shit!_"

His head snapped to his left side, his mind no longer paying the smirking stranger any more attention. Redgrave's icy eyes looked over the sparking pile of metal and rubble where he had previously been impaled upon, taking in the amount of shrapnel and various broken pieces of machinery in despair. He could only conclude that the necklace had fallen off at some point, either during the fall or the brief struggle with the G-Carrier.

However, now was not the time to go search for it. Not if he hoped to pick up Claire's trail. The thought of leaving behind one of the few possessions he had all of his life made his stomach lurch and his heart ache, but Tony knew he had to put his lover's life before all that.

Forcing his obvious panic aside, donning the aloof mask he always wore once more, the crimson-coated youth gave a simple shrug before turning towards the section of broken railing he had originally been approaching, telling Gilver as he started to walk away, "Eh, it's just a necklace. They're a dime a dozen. I've got more important business to attend to, so take a hike. I'll buy you a beer the next time I see you at Bobby's, but right now, I don't need your help."

To that, the stoic swordsman gave a low scoff, favoring the leaving man with a narrow, bemused glare.

"'Business...' Is _that_ what you call her?"

Those words froze the young man in place.

The corners of the gauze above the bandaged man's mouth crinkled as he sneered at his fellow mercenary's physical reaction.

Tony's eyes narrowed into slits as he turned to meet his sneer with a furious glare. "...What'd you just say?"

The darkly-dressed enigma chuckled mirthlessly at his silent fury.

"Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Anthony Redgrave, of all people, had other... diversions outside of the guild..." Gilver spoke again, balancing both of his hands atop the pommel of his sheathed katana's hilt before going on.

His next two words froze the young mercenary's outrage into icy fear. "Claire Redfield... That is her name, is it not?" He cocked his head as he continued to observe the red-clad man silently. "A spirited young woman... Headstrong, but capable... It's easy to see what drew you to her."

Tony took a single step towards the other swordsman, his eyes filled with outrage as he grit his jaw down, his shaking hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.

"You stay the hell away from her," he hissed.

His rival's sneer widened, his dark eyes flashing. "Oh... I'm afraid it's far too late for that, Anthony. We're past that point now."

The gunslinger's hand became blurs, his Beretta and Colt out in a flash, aimed for the other man's smug, bandaged face.

"What the hell did you do?!" Redgrave demanded. "You had no business going near her, you Curse of the Mummy reject!"

To that, Gilver only chuckled again. "Compose yourself. I merely gave her the means to move forward... And a few words of advice."

Tony's eyes widened in confusion, but his handguns remained leveled at him. "What did you say to her?!"

The bandaged mercenary was unfazed by the young man's threats, only favoring him with a contempt-filled glare, a flicker of glee flashing in his eyes as well.

"The truth she refused to see. That is all. I would impart that truth upon you, as well, but... it would seem you are still not ready for it."

The gunman felt his confusion adding to his frustrations, the stranger's cryptic words making no sense to him.

"What're you goin' on about?! What 'truth?!'" he demanded, his thumbs pulling the hammers of his handguns back to emphasize his threat.

The other swordsman moved his right hand back into his pocket, and turned towards the lone door in the storeroom, facing his back to him, completely unafraid of the threat presented by his firearms.

"When I first arrived at Bobby's Cellar, I had... other plans to open your eyes... But I was wrong... I see now that Miss Redfield is the only way to ensure that you accept the truth about yourself, _Tony Redgrave._"

Gilver's words were as cool as ice until he spoke Tony's name in full, spitting the words out like they were foul poison.

The young man's eyes narrowed again, completely at a loss for the meaning of what his rival was trying to say. "You're not making any sense, dammit! What the hell do you want from me?!"

The mysterious mercenary looked over his shoulder to meet his adversary's eyes once more, and as a light above him flickered, the man in red was shocked to see the shadows fall away from the bandaged man's orbs, finally letting Redgrave see they were of a similar icy blue to his own.

His next words were calm and cool, but no more clear than any were before.

"I want you to wake up. To open your eyes to this fiction you've coaxed yourself into believing. When that happens... you will see the truth staring right back at you, just as it always has."

Tony blinked, completely at a loss at his words. But before he could say anything in turn, the lights in the room flickered out once again, making his gaze snap up from where the bandaged swordsman was standing. Hissing a curse, the boy quickly righted his line of vision-

But when the lights returned, Gilver was gone.

The gunslinger lowered his weapons as his gaze quickly looked over the room, but his instincts told him that his adversary was long gone, having disappeared in the brief moment he had looked away.

Hissing another curse, Redgrave could only ponder over the strange swordsman's even stranger words, trying to make sense of his talk of 'truth' and 'lies.' But he was no closer to understanding the bandaged bastard's motives in the slightest.

Slipping the Beretta and Colt back into their holsters, Tony found his thoughts drifting to Claire once more, as he could only wonder what his rival had told her... And then another question came to him. A painful one.

_Why_ hadn't Claire told him she had encountered Gilver?

And then a scream echoed through the hole near the broken railing. A cry of terror that made the crimson-coated mercenary spin around as he recognized the voice easily.

His body moved on its own, diving down the hole to arrive in a cemented corridor, which became a gray blur as he dashed through and around it, landing with a splash in foul-smelling sewage. But he ignored the odor, his eyes searching, and finding what he sought.

Ahead, grasped in the massive, deformed paw of another mutant nightmare spawned from the viral apocalypse gripping Raccoon City above and below, was Claire, weakly kicking and struggling to break free from the creature's grasp. The monster's smirking face split apart, revealing a long inner mouth coated with squirming, seething maggots, that moved to envelope the woman's own tear-stained face.

Tony's vision faded away, becoming a haze of red.

In the next instant, he was slamming into the mutant, Woozy drawn out, the dark blade cutting into the monster's swollen shoulder and head, causing gouts of glowing orange blood to splash into the waste-filled sewer water. The creature screeched and flailed, trying vainly to raise its massive arm to defend itself, but the ferocious swordmaster never let it, his blade cutting deeper and deeper into the tumorous growth on its shoulder. As the flesh was cut away, Redgrave's eyes, once more pitched a glowing gold and red, met a familiar orange orb hidden under the creature's flesh, the eye frantically twitching about as its host struggled to escape the demon tearing into it.

Grasping the broadsword's hilt with both hands, the swordsman in red plunged the barbed tip of the weapon deep into the orange eye, all the way to half of its shaft. The beast shrieked a rattling, warbly death cry, its massive body pitching backwards before collapsing into the dirty water with a heavy splash, more of its strange, glowing orange blood oozing out of its death wound.

With satisfaction, Tony tore his blade free from the monster's flesh, wiping the sword clean on the crook of his jacket's elbow, his still-glowing gold and red eyes glaring pitilessly down on the creature, even as his mind realized it was one of the G-Carrier's spawn, fully grown. Perhaps it was the same embryo that had torn itself free from Chief Iron's body.

A flash of red around the corners of his eyes saw Redgrave's bloody gaze return to its normal icy hue, and he spat contemptuously on the mutant's corpse before turning back the way he came, sloughing his way through the sewage. When he spotted a raised platform past a nearby mound of clumped-up garbage and waste, the youth quickly approached it, his heart soaring when he saw Claire, wet and soaked in dirty water, but alive and unharmed...

Pointing her revolver at him.

Tony looked at the gun, then back to her.

Her grey-blue eyes were still shedding tears as the gun slipped free from her shaking hands. She looked at him in a strange combination of horror, relief... and confusion.

"T... _Tony?!_" she whispered.

Smiling gently, he nodded.

But her next words stopped him in his tracks.

"B-but... You... You-you were _dead!..._ I-I _saw_ you...!"

And Tony Redgrave realized he had never considered that Claire would have seen his body impaled not once, but twice. First by the G-Carrier's claws, and again in the ruins of the elevator, run through from multiple angles. Losing blood the way he had alone would have sealed any normal man's fate. But not his.

No, Tony Redgrave was infamous among the mercenary guild that gathered in Bobby's Cellar for being the only man who could walk into a onslaught of bullets, and walk away alive and unharmed. Getting impaled was only little more an inconvenience for someone like him. Everyone at Bobby's knew this, and didn't bat an eye...

But Claire?... Claire knew _nothing _about his supernatural abilities.

And now, here he stood before her. Lazarus risen from his grave. A miracle? Or something else?

Swallowing, lowering his head to tear his eyes away from her frightened gaze, Anthony struggled for words.

"Erm..." he mumbled, before looking back to her, grinning sheepishly.

"_...Surprise?_"

* * *

And just like that, the secret is out.

Tell me readers, how would you react to the discovery your significant other has supernatural powers? I like to think I'd take it in stride, but the situation for poor Claire and Tony may not be as simple...or accepting.

Would y'all believe this revelation was actually supposed to happen a lot earlier? WAAAAAAAAAAY back in Chapters Five and Six, actually. Claire was supposed to help Tony fight G1 Birkin, they would have gotten to the parking lot together with Sherry, and when they got ambushed by Irons, the fat jerk was gonna shoot Tony in the head, "killing" him right in front of Claire. It was supposed to be Tony who saved her from the Lickers after he woke up, at which point Claire discovers he's not entirely human, while the sequence with Ada was supposed to happen with Gilver (I had this hilarious idea of Gilver cutting Ben's cell door open, and Ben's hand off before he got killed by X. What do you mean that's not funny?). Gilver would have teamed up with Ada and left the station with her, while Claire learns the truth about our red wearing hero.

It was Da-Awesom-One who suggested I change that up, and honestly, I feel like it's a helluva lot better for it. Every change this dude has suggested and implemented has made this little story all the more fun to write AND read because it opens new paths I hadn't envisioned and lets me explore them. The man has also been hard at work adding bits of characterization to better flesh out our protagonists, and if y'all were to recheck out Chapter Five, we added a spot for Marvin to give him so closure as well.

I'd say were very close to the end of the second act of this story, all that's left is wrapping up the aftermath of Claire learning about Tony's abilities, finding the plugs, and saving Sherry, I think I can pack that all in the next chapter. Then it's on to the NEST, and the endgame.

While it's a bit premature to say for sure about any potential sequel/follow-ups to Made In Heaven, me and Da-Awesom-One have been discussing what could happen, but I've also pitched a new DMC/RE story to him that I want to start working on soon. So, I need y'all to be prepared for a potential slow down in updates for Made In Heaven if I choose to focus on starting that one (Don't worry, Made In Heaven WILL get finished before I actually start posting that new story).

I don't want to give any details away on the new story (Mostly because I'm still ironing 'em out so anything could change between now and then) but I will tell you it stars Nero instead of Dante, because I've been itchin' to write that boy again for a while now.

Also I just started Final Fantasy VII Remake...so if I disappear, that's why.

Drop a Follow/Favorite, and a review if you like! Also swing by Da-Awesom-One's page and give his stories the same treatment.

One last thing: Has ANYBODY figured out the naming theme of the chapters yet? I told Da-Awesom-One, but nobody has said anything about it yet so I suspect y'all haven't. The biggest hint is in this chapter. First person to guess it wins an imaginary cookie!


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten: Liar

* * *

From the moment she had arrived in Raccoon City, Claire Redfield had found herself afflicted with one tragedy after another. The city's population infected with a man-made virus that turned them into undead flesh-eating abominations straight out of a late-night horror movie, with monsters spawned from her worst nightmares lurking in the shadows. Her one ally's refusal to be saved due to a single, damning bite inflicted on him, along with an innocent child being stalked by a monstrosity. A surviving human being somehow worse than all the other evils lurking in the city, and, most recently, the death of someone close to her heart...

Or so it had seemed.

Less than an hour ago, the young college student had awoken after an attack from the monster stalking Sherry, which had evolved into a hideously new, stronger form. Sherry was nowhere to be found... and her boyfriend, Anthony "Tony" Redgrave, who had followed her to Raccoon City after an argument they had spurred her to head for the lost city of the dead to find her missing brother, lay dead only a few feet away, impaled on the broken remnants of the destroyed elevator that the monster had caused to crash. Broken rebar and various bits of metal had run him through, leaving him drenched in his own blood, his flesh pale and cold...

...And yet somehow, standing waist high in the river of sewage water and waste across from where Claire lay huddled as far back as possible, her back firmly against the brick wall of the small raised ledge above the sewer tunnel she had discovered in her search for Sherry, stood Tony Redgrave.

He was covered in splashes of dark red blood, some his own but mostly dry now. Most of the rest was a fading dull orange, gouts of the stuff having splashed onto him as he killed the strange monster that had emerged from a nearby sluice and had attacked her. He had saved her life, not for the first time that night, and yet any joy and relief she should have been feeling was overwhelmed by disbelief and confusion over one simple fact:

Less than an hour ago, he had been dead.

And now he was alive.

"How... H-how is this possible?" she whispered more to herself than her beau, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his head with his left hand, the right still holding that gothic greatsword he had used to tear that monster to shreds.

"...Look, I know you're probably a little freaked out-" he started to say, his tone completely casual in clear defiance of the insanity of the continuing situation that was Raccoon City's current nightmare.

"You were _dead!_" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and filled with too many mixed emotions.

Tony raised his left hand out, wagging it while cocking his head and saying, "_Teeeeeeechnically,_ I was unconscious."

"You were impaled by-b-b-by _dozens_ of pieces of shrapnel, and-and you were covered in _blood!_" the girl practically screeched at that point, a tremor in her throat making her stutter, the quake threatening to turn into a sob.

There was a part of her overjoyed to see him alive and well, but her rational mind refused to let go of the fact he had been _dead_, his skin cold to the touch.

"Hey, not all of this is mine!" the young man shot back, his left hand pulled back, index finger indicating a splotch of blood before quickly moving to another. "Most of this gunk's from that monster I just-"

"_Enough, Anthony!_" she interrupted sharply, her voice rising over his own, her tone sharp and serious to harshly contrast his casual and almost jovial own.

At the sound of his full name - a clear and familiar sign that he was pushing things too far - Tony went silent, letting his hand fall away from the splotch of monster ichor he had been pointing at on his coat, his arm hanging by his side while the other hand gripped his great sword, balancing it across his shoulder.

Claire was glaring back at him with a torn expression, mixed emotions flashing through her grey blue eyes: relief, confusion, anger, and intense yearning, which threw the swordsman off for a moment before he understood why her eyes had such turmoil.

She just wanted to understand.

A sudden weight settled over Redgrave's shoulders, his chest tightening up as he stood silent for several tense moments.

Then, with a sigh, he took a few sloshing steps towards the ledge she was crouched on, slinging his sword behind his back before extending his right hand out towards her. The vice in his chest, gripping at his heart, squeezed even tighter when she flinched at his approach, the young woman pulling her head and chest back to press her back flat against the wall behind her, the emotions roiling in her eyes briefly becoming overwritten by an all too familiar flash of fear.

He had seen it before in the eyes of most of the poor bastards standing between him and finishing a job. But seeing such an emotion in Claire's eyes - the eyes of someone he sincerely cared about - was more than enough to make the vice on his heart squeeze harder and harder...

Inhaling slowly but deeply under his breath, the red-garbed gunman extended his hand further out towards the cowering college girl before speaking again. "Lemme see your knife."

The sudden request caught the girl off guard, making her blink, her sudden fear of her resurrected boyfriend's movements towards her once more overcome by the ever-growing confusion of the situation.

"My knife?" she echoed back to him.

Tony nodded, inclining his head backwards slightly in a sudden motion, towards the skull-faced hilt guard of his greatsword hanging over his shoulder.

"I'd use Woozy, but, uh... Well, it's kinda covered in monster guts at the moment..."

Despite the continuing growing mixture of frustration and fear currently rolling around in her stomach, Claire had to fight down a smile at the young man's quip. Then the bewilderment came back as she pondered over what Tony would need her knife for. He seemed to easily sense her confusion, sighing lowly and looking away before speaking again.

"It's... easier to show than tell."

His words, just as confusing as his request, did little to dispel her trepidation. But the notion that he would at least somehow show her an answer - possibly _the_ answer to all of her questions - was enough to help her ease up on her hesitations.

Slowly, Claire reached for the revolver she had dropped upon seeing him again, slipping it back on her hip holster while reaching for the sheathed knife on her belt. Unhooking the blade, sheathe and all, the woman extended her right hand out, gripping the weapon by the sheathe over the blade, offering the hilt to Tony.

The pale-haired man's own extended hand gripped the knife by its hilt, easily sliding it out. Stepping back, the swordsman began twisting and spinning the sharp blade over his fingers, easily, even tossing it in the air, where it spun several times before Tony's hand shot out, easily catching the weapon by its hilt without ever once raising his gaze to follow its motions. Despite herself, Claire had to admit the man's dexterity was nothing short of impressive, much like his skills with firearms, and the way he wielded that sword with a single hand.

Flipping the knife once again, and catching the tip of his blade with the edge of his index finger, Redgrave easily balanced the sharp object while moving his right hand towards his left, using his three free fingers and thumb to yank off the glove covering his left hand, the balanced knife on his index finger never wavering once as he did so. With a simple flick of his pointer finger, Tony sent the knife spinning back into the air, quickly stuffing his left hand's glove into a pocket of his coat before catching the blade by its hilt. With a heavy sigh, he raised the sharp tip of the blade towards his exposed open palm.

For a moment, the young woman really didn't believe he was about to do what it seemed like he was going to do. Then he spoke up again, prompting Claire to look back at the unusually compliant man's face, his expression a grimace.

Then she realized that he actually _was_ going to go through it with it after uttering the following words: "For the record... this is gonna hurt."

With that said, he sunk the sharp tip of the knife into his palm, easily splitting the flesh, prompting large droplets of blood to spill out. Then, to Claire's horror, he proceeded to drag the blade across his palm, leaving a trail of cut flesh and flowing blood. Tony's face twitched, his grimace morphing into an annoyed scowl instead of breaking down into a more agonized expression.

Unable to help herself, the horrified woman lunged across the ledge in a feeble attempt to stop him from hurting himself any further.

"_What the FUCK are you doing, you idiot?!_" she screeched, her hands lashing out to try and smack the knife out of the boy's hand before he hurt himself any further.

Frustratingly, the crimson-coated gunman easily stepped back, just out of her reach, ripping the knife tip out of his palm in the same motion, a small gout of blood splashing into the sewage water under the man's hand. The corner of his grimacing lips twitched slightly, his icy blue eyes narrowed as he stared at the self-inflicted wound for a moment before flexing his fingers out and clenching them into a tight fist, causing another gush of blood to flow out and splash softly into the sewer water.

Disgusted, Claire's hands flew over her mouth as she watched the macabre display, both the sight of the spilling blood and Tony's almost nonchalant way of self-inflicting the wound upon himself.

Unclenching his fist, letting the fingers flex open slowly, the man in red then took a glance at his bloody palm for a moment more before reaching out with his cut hand, showing her his bloodstained palm. The college girl flinched back, eyes widening as a combination of disgust and fury flared through her, her mouth falling open as she prepared to speak again... only to fall silent as her grey-blue eyes focused on the deep open cut on his palm...

Or rather... the _shrinking_ cut on his palm.

Before Claire's stunned eyes, she watched the split flesh knit itself back together in short order, the torn sinew and tissue sewing itself shut before her very eyes. In moments, what had been a ragged, raw wound was bright pink flesh as smooth as a newborn's, without any remote hint of scarred tissue left behind. The whole process had taken less than ten seconds. Drawing his healed palm back slightly while still holding younger Redfield's own knife in his right hand, Tony spread the fingers of his left hand out, wiggling them.

Giving the stunned biker a half-hearted grin, he weakly proclaimed, "_Ta-daaa..._"

Unable to really say anything in response, Claire continued to stare at her boyfriend's hand in a stupor, blinking once, then twice as she continued to gaze upon the bloodied limb. Yet no matter how long she studied the hand, the cut remained gone, the only evidence it had even existed being the drying splotches of gore on Redgrave's hand.

Unable to help herself, the college girl reached out with her own hand, her fingers touching the swordsman's calloused palm, the tips of her index and middle fingers tracing the line of smoother skin where the gash had been. Then, as she traced the line a second time, Claire realized the smoothness was roughing out, the pink fading into the same paler pallor like the rest of the youth's skin. Just like that, any remaining physical traces of the injury were simply gone, and the girl pulled her hand back, turning her gaze back up to meet his, the white-haired male watching her with a nervous grin and hesitant icy blue eyes.

To see such an expression on his face was almost as strange as watching the cut on his hand heal before her eyes.

At a complete loss, all Claire could do was quietly utter, "It... It healed...?"

The gunslinger nodded, tossing the knife into the air once again before quickly rubbing the remaining wet patches of blood off of his palm against his pants, while his other hand quickly yanked his removed glove from his pocket, slipping the article of leather back on before catching the knife as it began to descend back down, speaking again in the same instance.

"You can cut me to ribbons, fill me full of holes, and break as many of my bones as you like... but my body just puts me back together again, every time."

Still trying to process exactly what she had just seen, Claire's gaze fell away from Tony, her eyes lowering down to stare at the murky water filling the sewer Redgrave was standing in, but they were unfocused and drifting as she murmured to herself, "But how is that possible?..."

She wasn't sure if the other youth had heard her or not, his voice rising over hers as he continued to explain.

"I don't just heal fast either. I'm not some one-trick pony, babe. I'm a helluva lot tougher and stronger than most people think. Heck, the biggest bodybuilder around's got nothin' on me."

The redhead was not even surprised with herself at how easily she accepted that somewhat arrogant boast from the young man. She remembered her very first encounter with Tony at the Bullseye Bar, where he had easily floored a much larger man with a single blow, and scared off the other two with a glare. At the time, she had been too stunned to really question how a much smaller man in comparison to the bull of a biker he had knocked down had even been able to do such a thing...

But then her mind drifted to more recent events, like Tony's arrival to the station, and how the door in the courtyard that led to the station's East Wing had been bound with a chain; something she had happened to notice as she raced down to greet him from the railing above. She had seen the chain wrapped around the door handle to a nearby pipe, securely locking it...

_...He crushed the lock,_ the pink-vested biker realized.

A solid metal lock or segment in the chain... and he had crushed it or broken it off while she had been distracted by the burning undead in the hallway above. It seemed utterly impossible...

But then the college student recalled all of the times he had handled the undead roaming the station with his bare hands, crushing one's head to pulp against a wooden desk, breaking the desk's surface as he did, or fending off another lunging for his neck. Or how he had kicked a chained door off of its hinges with a single strike. It was even more obvious to her now, explaining how Tony was able to hold a shotgun or his sword with a single hand so easily.

But Claire found herself also recalling their fight - if you could really call 'running for your life' a fight - against the coated giant they had encountered in the police station. The monster had pummeled and tossed Tony around like a ragdoll, and the young woman remembered that, at one-point, the snowy-haired boy could barely stand on his own two legs...

So how, then, had he been able to run alongside her? How had he found the strength to shove open a dropped steel shutter, and throw a large bookcase between a door and the coated behemoth chasing them? In less than a minute since previously having his ribs crushed in his chest, no less?

In the back of her thoughts, she could see in her mind's eye, shortly after reaching the parking garage's lowered gate, that Claire hadn't been able to find a single bruise anywhere on Tony's exposed skin. Perhaps then she had fooled to herself into chalking it up to the poor lighting, but now the truth had been revealed.

Tony _had_ been hurt... But his body had simply healed itself in the short amount of time it had taken them to get back to the station's lower garage.

The superhuman youth heard her words, and seemed to mull over them for a moment before speaking again.

"_Sooo..._ Any thoughts? Opinions?"

Claire did not reply, her gaze unfocused, lips open slightly, but not a single word slipped out.

The man, meanwhile, merely stood in place, his eyes briefly wandering towards the knife still clutched in his hand. He raised it slightly, looking the sharp object over before he blinked, his entire face lighting up as he spoke up.

"Heh, y'know what I just realized? This is just like that one scene in Highlander where the main guy stabs himself to prove he's-"

"What the hell _are_ you?!" Redfield suddenly snapped, her face rising up so her anger-filled eyes met Tony's stunned own. Before he could form any kind of response, the suddenly irate redhead spoke on, words heated and accusing. "Are you one of Umbrella's experiments?! Sent to spy on me to get information on my brother?!"

The accusation would have made him burst out laughing under normal circumstances, but the enraged glare Claire was shooting him with, along with the way she was tightening her grip on her holstered revolver, made the young man decide that it wouldn't be the smartest thing to do.

Holding his hands up, Tony gave the woman a bemused but reassuring smile before responding. "Now, hold your horses, babe! Let's not start throwin' around paranoid conspiracy theories just yet, okay? I'd never even heard of Umbrella before coming to this lovely necropolis, remember?"

His words did nothing to alleviate the girl's distrustful glare, the biker still scowling angrily at him. Taking a chance, Redgrave stepped forward, tossing the knife in the air again, this time catching it by the blade, and presenting the hilt back to her.

As he reached the edge of the ledge she was situated on, the pale-haired male spoke on. "Look, this ain't exactly something you bring up on the first date..."

Claire warily continued to glare at Tony, ignoring the offered knife entirely for the moment. She remained silent for several moments, then her suspicious glare shifted to a more neutral, controlled expression before she spoke at last.

"...So _that's_ what you were hiding from me? That you're not... _completely_ human?"

Tony nodded, favoring her with a relaxed grin as he replied, "Like I said, you don't just drop a bomb like that in a casual conversation."

The girl went silent again, seeming to mull over his words, before asking a final question. "And that's it?... That's _all_ you were hiding from me about yourself?"

The weight that had settled on his shoulders, as well as the vice gripping his heart, finally seemed to melt away.

The red-coated gunslinger allowed his easy grin to return before replying with absolute assurance, "That's it, babe."

To his surprise, Claire's face remained somewhat stony and unreadable. She reached out, grasping her knife by the handle, and pulling it free from Redgrave's hand, the man's smile somewhat faltering as he watched her silently sheathe the blade back on her belt-

-Before she rapidly drew her revolver out, the hammer of the pistol drawn back in a soft *_click_* that seemed to echo throughout the sewers.

Before Tony could so much as blink or even attempt to react, the woman issued a sudden question. "Is Tony Redgrave... _really_ your name?"

The white-haired boy stared at the gun leveled for his face before looking past it, meeting his girlfriend's cold grey eyes, a part of him hoping this was some kind of joke, and he would break it once he spotted anything like humor in her eyes.

There was none.

"'_Really my name?_'" he echoed back, his eyes once more drawn to the gun aimed at his face before going on. "What makes you think it isn't?" he asked calmly, remaining still.

He didn't want to try to move or say anything that may cause her trigger finger to twitch. He had been shot plenty of times in the past, and he'd heal all the same, but like Tony had told Claire earlier, it always hurt.

"If you're willing to lie about _what_ you are... then you're more than likely willing to lie about _who_ you are," she retorted.

Well, damn. She had him there...

Raising his hands up, the man nodded, before speaking again. She was fishing for any more untruths he may have told her, so it was best to just come clean now, even if the answer was only going to raise more questions. No sense in making her any angrier than she already seemed to be.

"Well, for starters, I'd like to reiterate that I'm _not_ with Umbrella..." he began, stressing that point heavily. "...But no. It's not... In my defense, though, the guy I took it from doesn't exactly need it anymore."

Claire furrowed her brow, asking, "What do you mean?"

Sighing, he shrugged. "About ten years ago, a reporter was killed overseas in Europe. He died under... well, let's call it 'strange circumstances,' the only witness being his only son... The guy's name was Antonio Redgrave."

At the name 'Antonio Redgrave,' the woman blinked, surprise breaking through her controlled expression.

Tony nodded before continuing. "He was an unconventional reporter, to say the least... but I always admired his work. And I needed a name at the time, so I ended up taking his. Put my own personal spin on it to make it my own."

Claire watched him silently, but didn't lower her gun. That wasn't a good sign, the white-haired youth concluded. Something else was clearly bothering her, agitating her enough to keep her gun on him, but he was at a loss as to what.

"So what's your real name, then?" she finally asked.

Internally, the man calling himself Anthony Redgrave steeled himself. She had believed him about his more supernatural aspects of himself, mostly because he had shown her physical proof of them. But what he would have to tell her next... well, he didn't exactly have any way to physically convince her this time.

"...What if I told you I don't even know what it is?" he inquired, looking away from the .38 pointed at him back to the face of the woman holding it.

Her expression became a combination of confusion and incredulity. "You don't even know your own name?!" she retorted in disbelief.

Reaching over his shoulder, unafraid the sudden motion might cause Claire to fire her gun and nail a bullet between his eyes, Tony drew his gothic longsword, looking the weapon over before speaking again.

"Most people... Their earliest memories of being a kid are wakin' up on Christmas morning, or on a birthday, happy as can be. They can remember their parents' faces and names easily... Me, on the other hand?" He inhaled deeply, his shoulders sagging somewhat before straightening again, his explanation resuming. "I can't remember anything before turning eight. My earliest memory is waking up in a dirty alley, covered in ash and blood, not a scratch on me, with only this sword and the clothes on my back."

Redgrave idly gave the sword a little spin in his hand before looking back at Claire.

"Even as a child, no matter where I went, this blade always found its way back to me. Its my oldest keepsake, and my oldest companion. I can't explain how or why it keeps coming back to me... any more than I can explain why I can't remember anything prior to waking up alone in that alleyway."

That was the honest truth. He had been on the run ever since he was a child, fleeing from some nameless horror he had always felt was right on his tail his entire life. It wasn't until he took up the 'Anthony Redgrave' alias that he had finally felt like whatever it was he had been running from had lost his trail.

And it wasn't until he met Claire that he finally began to feel like a regular person, he thought to himself. A part of him wanted to say that aloud, but he remained silent, letting his girl digest this final revelation about him. There'd by time for sweeter truths such as that much later...

Or so he hoped, he thought to himself as he met Claire's angry glare once again.

She held his stare, her grey-blue eyes stone cold, even compared to his lighter, icy-blue orbs.

Without another word, she took a step back closer to wall in the corner of the ledge, and as she did, Tony finally noticed a large blue valve was situated in front of the gated door to her left. Looking away from him long enough to shove her revolver back into its holster, the irate college girl reached into her side pack, producing a large t-shaped valve. She shoved it into the blue valve and began turning it, her anger giving her a boost as the door began rising with each turn, punctuated by a soft *_squeak_* at every rotation.

Unsure of what else to say, and still befuddled about her obvious lingering anger, the man in red hedged a step closer, moving to climb up onto the ledge while speaking up again.

"Hey, uh, you want me to help you out with tha-"

"_Stay back!_" Claire snapped, her gaze rounding sharply as she shot him a warning glare with a clear single warning: _Come no closer._

Tony stopped in his tracks, stunned by her sudden snapping, the only sound between them the continued rusty squeaks of the turning valve as she turned her face forward to look away from the young man's stunned expression, the gated door almost entirely raised before she spoke again.

"Sherry's trapped in some kind of compactor room in a section of the sewer above us. There's a large steel door, like a bank vault's, blocking us off from getting to her. I need to find three electronic plugs that look like chess pieces to unlock the door so I can get her out of there. There's also a cable car not far from there, which can hopefully take us out of the city."

At the mention of the little girl and her current predicament, Tony almost allowed himself to relax from Claire's anger, a part of him hoping it was Sherry's situation along with all the bombshells he had to drop, that was the source of her frustrations. She'd cool off sooner or later, he told himself. The red-clad swordsman allowed himself to cling to that hope, and he almost succeeded in fooling himself into believing it was exactly that.

Claire's next sentence made his heart stop beating.

"Once I've saved Sherry, and we're out of the city... you and I are _done._"

With that declaration, the college girl shoved the valve back into her side pack, and quickly moved into the newly-opened area.

Tony wasn't exactly sure what happened next. One moment he was standing hip-deep into the sewage waste, watching Claire vanish into the next room, the next second everything became a blur. And when his vision returned to normal, he found himself in the newly-opened area, some kind of large storage room filled with crumpled boxes, piles of black garbage bags and rusty barrels, a single light glowing along the wall in the far end of the room. He had caught up with Claire in that same instant, his gloved hand snatching her by her upper right forearm, halting her in her tracks. She whirled around in the same instant, using the momentum of her spin to pull herself free from his grasp-

-and draw her revolver out, quickly aiming it dead center at his chest as she backed up a step, exclaiming, "_Don't you dare!_"

Completely unfazed by the deadly weapon currently positioned to blow a hole where his heart was, Tony boldly took a single step forward.

"Go ahead and shoot, if that'll make you feel better," he hissed, taking another step closer while speaking on. "But whatever your problem is, you need to tell me _right now._ I wanna know what the hell's going on with you, and what this is all about! I get you're upset that I lied to you, but I didn't know how else to tell you! If that's why you're breaking up with me, fine, but if it ain't, then I have a right to know why you're ending things with me!"

Tony was angry now, too, he realized. Not because he had to tell her so many things about himself he had always felt uncomfortable acknowledging, let alone openly speak freely about, but because of her continued ire towards him, even after revealing the truth.

Meeting his icy glare with her furious own, Claire retorted, "If you think I'm angry because you hid your abilities from me, or because you never told me about whatever happened to you to as a child that forced you to find a new name for yourself, then you are _so_ wrong! I'm _angry_ because I'm tired of all the _lies,_ Tony! I could forgive you for hiding your secrets from me; that's understandable! But the truth is you _still_ haven't stopped lying to me!"

Unable to hold his frustrations back any longer, the fed-up youth snapped back, his voice just shy of shouting as he demanded furiously, "Lying to you about _what?!_ I came clean about everything!"

Completely unfazed by his outburst, the furious redhead kept glaring back at him, revolver still up for a moment, before she lowered it again, never breaking eye contact with the raging Redgrave before speaking two words that froze his anger over into stunned silence.

"Bobby's Cellar."

...For the first time in his life, Tony Redgrave was at a complete loss for words, stunned silent. He forced himself to try to speak again, only to fumble over his words.

"What?... What did...? H-how did you- Who told...!"

And then it hit him, his confusion giving away to realization more as he figured out exactly _who_ could have told her: the only other person from the underworld guild in Raccoon City aside from himself. The bastard had sneered it in his face less than ten minutes ago. The confusion was burned away by his sudden anger, both of his hands clenching into fists so tight, the leather of his gloves squelched in protest.

"_Gilver..._" he hissed under his breath.

Hearing Tony mutter the bandaged stranger's name, Claire nodded in affirmation, further fueling the man's spark of growing anger.

Before he could stop himself, he exploded, furious words rushing out of him in a single breath of rage. "Why the _hell_ didn't you tell me you ran into him?! He's _dangerous,_ Claire! You can't trust someone like him-"

"Oh, _you're_ one to talk!" she snapped back, cutting him off and silencing his rage as she went on. "After every story you've fed me to cover your own ass, you think you have _any right_ to preach to _me_ about trust?! You've been lying to me since we first met! _Every_ day since we've been together, for almost a _year!_"

Tony had no rebuttal for that, Claire's righteous fury drowning out his own anger in an instant. Redgrave had to keep his shoulders from sagging again, knowing nothing he could say would help him at this point.

The young woman panted sharply for a moment, before slowing her breathing, taking in a deep inhale, followed by a slow exhale a second later.

When she seemed to better compose herself, she began to explain in a calmer tone of voice. "I met him back in the basement of the police station... in the kennels. He saved me from two more of those inside-out creatures we encountered in the station... I'm not sure what he did, or how he even did it, but he cut them down to nothing but cold cuts."

The man's gaze narrowed in bewilderment, stunned that someone as cold-hearted and ruthless as Gilver had actually gone out of his way to save Claire's life. Hell, it was purely out of character of him to do something like that. So why had he?

The girl's voice broke him from his brief contemplative stupor as she continued to recount her encounter with the mysterious swordsman.

"He asked me what I knew about you... And told me about the kind of '_jobs_' you'd get at Bobby's Cellar."

Her voice gained an edge as she mentioned 'jobs,' and despite himself, Tony felt himself twitch just ever so slightly in soft flinches as she began to list off the kind of 'work' he got from Bobby's, the edge in her tone getting sharper and hotter with each word.

"Protection. Transporting! _Racketeering!_"

The last one she practically spat out in her growing fury, glaring at the stunned, silent Redgrave.

Claire drew herself back, her next words a hushed hiss of ever-growing anger. "I find out all of this from one of your so-called 'coworkers...' And you had the fucking _nerve_ to say what you said about my brother back at the dorm..."

Tony was at a total loss of words, but the quiet, rational part of himself realized all of the younger Redfield's frustration towards him that moment was righteous and well-deserved on his part. He had no right whatsoever to feel any anger of his own at Claire. Not when she had called him out on so many of his own lies, which, compared to omitting the fact that one of Bobby's patrons had saved her life in his place, seemed criminal.

What a perfectly fitting word for how he currently felt.

She then glanced down at her feet suddenly, her anger fading into a more subdued, somber expression.

"He also made me realize something... He made me realize that I... I don't know you, Tony... Not as well as I thought I did..."

Such a comment was enough to make the boy grind his teeth in fresh fury at his fellow mercenary for making Claire believe something like that.

"Look, whatever he told you to make you think that way is pure _bull!_ You know me better than anyone. Hell, probably even better than myself!"

Claire looked back up at Tony, her face both sad, pained, and angry once again. "...All you've been feeding me since we've met is pure bull."

Unable to stop himself, the man in red turned away from the pink-vested biker as he sighed in aggravation, stalking off a little ways before finally saying, "See, _this_ is why I never wanted to tell you in the first place! I _knew_ you'd react like this!"

"Then how the _fuck_ am I supposed to react, Anthony?! Hell, how would _you_ react?!" she demanded from behind him, prompting the taller male to turn back around and meet her frustrated gaze. "You _lied_ to me - to my _face_ \- over and over again, for _months!_ I've been _nothing_ but honest with you since our first date, but you couldn't trust me enough to be open and honest with me about who you really were!"

She trailed off, her voice pained. When she spoke again, the young woman sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"That's what hurts the most about this... Realizing someone like Gilver was right all along... That I _don't_ know who you are... And that I never _did..._"

Hearing such betrayed pain in Claire's voice was enough to make Tony inch closer to her, his own voice soft and gentle as he began speaking.

"C'mon... You know me. It's _me!_ It's _Tony! Anthony,_ when you're pissed! Don't ever doubt that!"

"Anthony isn't even your real name!" she scoffed quietly, raising her left hand to her face to wipe at the corners of her eyes.

"Well, it's the one I've got! And it's better than having no name at all, trust me on that!" he argued, moving closer as he spoke on.

"Yes, I lied about a lot of things, okay? I lied about getting jobs at Bobby's, I lied about these weird powers I have - and the sword, I technically lied about that, too - and I lied about my name. But everything else is the real me! I love rock, I love any type of metal, I can live off of pizza and strawberry sundaes for years on end!"

He stepped forward, placing his hands on her cheeks - like he had earlier in the night when he had found her by the downed helicopter - raising her teary gaze to meet his own.

"And you have to know... you _have_ to believe... that everything I feel about you is _real!_"

That seemed to the tipping point for her grief, twin lines of tears running down Claire's cheeks as she used both of her hands to pull herself free from his touch, shaking her head as she turned away from Tony. She spoke again, this time her voice choked with pain.

"How can I trust anything you say... when no matter how much I wanted you to, you never trusted me enough to tell me the truth?..."

The young man, clearly at a loss for words, stared at her back, his eyes on the image of the Valkyrie on her back. Inside, he could feel the vice once more on his heart, this time squeezing it to the point of shattering. Unable to help himself, he reached out for trembling young woman...

Who walked just out of his grasp, taking a few steps forward, both hands suddenly lifting up, and reaching behind her neck to undo the clasp of a silver chain resting against her pale skin. For a moment, Tony believed she was about to take off the silver feather charm he had given her for their six month anniversary, a concept he had once sneered at after hearing of such ludicrous things chatted about in Bobby's Cellar among some of the other mercenaries. But the boy's fear was unfounded, replaced with surprise as Claire, without turning to look back at him, thrust her left hand out towards him, gripping the links of a familiar red and silver charm, presenting the necklace back to its former keeper.

"This is yours..." was all that escaped her lips, her voice as quiet as a whisper.

Silent, both in disbelief and confusion, Tony wordlessly found himself accepting the necklace, his right hand reaching out to grasp the palm-sized charm. He looked first towards the surface of the red ruby, shining ever so faintly in the dim light, before looking back up at Claire, who remained in place. Struggling to find his words - any words at this point - the stunned man's lips parted-

Only to close again as the woman resumed her pace towards a small elevator situated in the right-hand corner of the storage room.

_How can I tell you the truth... when I don't even know what it is?_

He wanted so badly to tell her that, but his lips refused to work.

Pressing a switch on the cart, powering the small platform up, Claire called back to him, her voice firm, with barely a hint of the tremoring grief that had riffled through it moments ago. "I'm gonna start looking for the plugs so I can save Sherry. You can come with me, or you can go it alone. Do whatever you want... Either way, that's it... We're through."

With those last words, the lift activated and carried the pink vest-wearing biker girl away from the grief-stricken, red-coated mercenary.

"C'mon... Claire..." he weakly called after her, helplessly raising his right arm towards her. "Claire, _wait..._"

But she did not respond, not even bothering to look at him, even before the lift took her out of his sight...

For a long moment, Tony simply stood there, while inside him a storm raged. The part of him he struggled with, the side of him that came alive in battle, wanted to rip, tear, and smash the room he was standing in to pieces. To howl for blood, and roar its pain.

But the man did nothing...

He remained where he was, squatting down as he wallowed in his misery, once more overwhelmed and disconnected from the world around him. That even in a necropolis of the undead, he still felt like an outsider amongst everyone else.

Once again, since waking up in that alleyway almost eleven years ago, the man who called himself Tony Redgrave felt utterly alone, and unsure of what to do next...

* * *

Her vision blurry with tears, Claire stumbled off the small elevator lift and into the new area. Her left hand was clamped firmly over her own mouth to stifle and muffle the sounds of her sobs, her eyes closed as tightly as she could force them to be. But even that wasn't enough to stop the tears still streaming down her cheeks.

Blindly, she bumped into something solid, and came to a stop, her shoulders shaking harshly as her entire form was wracked by the intensity of her grief. Turmoiled emotions ran rampant in her chest, each struggling for dominance.

The relief, genuine and true, over the fact that Tony was alive.

Confusion and fear over the strange, supernatural powers he possessed, though not of the abilities, or even towards the man himself. Just a sense of wonder of what he truly was, along with a deep, lingering fear of discovering just what exactly that was.

And the anger, first and foremost, that even after he had admitted the truth of his abilities to her, he had still lied about his lifestyle as a patron of Bobby's Cellar, a place where only thieves and killers looking to earn a quick dollar ventured and frequented.

But the anger wasn't just at Tony for his lies.

Claire was furious and ashamed of herself for turning a blind eye to all of the oddities surrounding him for so long. She had allowed herself to get swept away by his wit and charm; to just ignore the holes in his claims of being a simple handyman who just happened to have the required skill set for high-paying jobs.

She felt like such a fool.

She knew better. Had been taught better by Chris, and _still_ she had fallen for a criminal. He had lied the entire time about who he was to her, simply because she had been stupid enough to let him. Her anger was well-justified. She knew and believed that with all her heart.

That he had still tried to lie to her face even after revealing his healing ability... Not to mention the fact that one of his 'bar buddies' had to practically spell out all of the little details she had failed to pick up on...

Anger and humiliation boiled in her veins, but she was still firm set on her decision...

So why, then, did that very same heart - burning furiously with righteous, deceived rage - ache with so much pain, feeling like it was about to shatter under the heavy weight suddenly pressing down on it?

_"And you have to know... you **have** to believe... that everything I feel about you is **real!**"_

With a shuddering inhale and a final sob, Claire forced herself to open her eyes, wiping the slowing tears away with the tips of her fingers.

His words had sounded so genuine... but then again, so had all the other times he had lied about where he had gone for a 'job,' or whatever explanation he had given to ease her concerns whenever the man in red would vanish for days on end. He'd just up and disappear, then reappear and take her out on a date, paying for it with the extravagant amount of cash he always seemed to have when he'd come back. Claire had let her initial concerns melt away, and convinced herself to just keep being happy and having fun with him...

The tears stopped entirely, and the Redfield woman was able to get a better grip on her breathing, bringing it back under control.

It only hurt because she had thought it was real... but it wasn't.

What _was_ real was the situation she and Sherry still found themselves in. The little girl was trapped in the sewers, and she wasn't about to waste any more time feeling sorry for herself.

She would find the plugs, save Sherry, and get both herself and the child out of Raccoon City. After that, she'd see to it that the little girl was somewhere safe before trying to find Chris. Getting to Europe wouldn't be cheap, but she had to find her brother.

And putting an entire ocean between her and Tony Redgrave would probably help her get over him.

With that decided, Claire set her jaw and stepped away from the table she had bumped into. Now that she was paying attention to where exactly she had arrived, the young college student saw she was in a workroom of some kind, with boxes and various other items piled about on the multiple tables and lone cart sitting idly by itself, a single door just past the table in front of her. As she started to approach it, the biker girl moved past the desk, and paused momentarily upon spying the lone body of a heavyset man collapsed face-down on the floor.

Backing up and taking the long way around the table to avoid the corpse entirely, she arrived at the door, and peered through the open grille at eye level built into it, allowing the redhead to look into the next area. She saw that the door was locked with a strong bolt lock just a little ways above its handle, keeping it securely in place, which was a good thing for her, considering the number of zombies Claire was able to see idling about in the next area.

But that wasn't all that was out there...

Looking away from the stumbling walking dead that ambled about mindlessly, the young student saw the real prize along the left-side wall. There, snugly secured in an open power panel, was one of the plugs she needed. The chess piece atop it was a rook. The only thing standing between her and that plug was a door, and a few zombies.

Undeterred, the woman reached for her holstered .38, quickly checking the cylinder to confirm it was still fully loaded.

As horrible as it sounded, Claire was grateful for the presence of the undead only a doorway ahead. They were a much-needed distraction from the still-roiling emotions in her chest. Putting them out of their misery would allow her mind to focus on the task ahead, and get her ready for whatever dangers that were standing between her and saving Sherry.

With that in mind, the youngest Redfield sibling pulled the hammer of her revolver back while reaching for the latch of the locked bolt, her body tensing as she prepared herself...

* * *

Back below the workroom Claire - now his ex-girlfriend - had arrived to from the elevator platform, Tony Redgrave was still crouching over the damp, dirty floor of the sewer, all alone, and pondering over the red gem encrusted in the silver necklace. The necklace - an amulet, really - was another one of the few possessions the formerly nameless man had carried with him for the last decade now. It had been around his neck ever since he woke up in that dirty alleyway.

As his icy eyes studied the charm, he recalled how often he had struggled to simply hold on to such a small thing. There had been times when others had sought to take it away from him, either in exchange for something he had needed, or to simply possess it for themselves. But Tony had _always_ held onto it. It was important to him, of that he was certain.

No. _More_ than important.

There were times when giving it up would have made the days ahead easier to bear, easing the struggles that still lay ahead. But he never considered giving it up an option.

That is... until he had to accept losing it forever, or following after Claire.

It was no contest. The pendant, or finding the one person who had made him feel like something more than what he really was after having lived like an outsider for so long, even among the gaggle of nomads who made Bobby's Cellar their den. He would have easily left it all behind for her.

_Always_ for her.

But she had taken it with her, or found it herself, while he had been incapacitated. She had held onto it, believing him dead. Because she cared.

"She cares... Always did... Until I went and screwed it all up, like I always do..." he whispered bitterly to himself.

She had every right to be angry with him. He had lied about who he was, what he was, and what he did for a living, and maybe that same anger was blinding her to the truth of his feelings for her. But as much as Tony wanted to desperately dig up some excuse that would convince himself he could win her back, the young man resisted. She had made her decision clear, and he would accept it, as much as he didn't want to.

Unbidden, his left hand moved into the inside of his coat, where his fingers traced the outline of the gift he had gotten for her as an apology for the fight they'd had in her dorm room. Somehow, the thing was still intact despite all the punishment the mercenary had taken over the course of this single, hellish night in Raccoon City. A good sign, perhaps.

The pale-haired man turned his gaze upward, towards the shaft the pink vest-wearing redhead had disappeared into. She had told him she was looking for something - electronic plugs shaped like chess pieces - to unlock a door barring her off from the child they had found in the power plant underneath the police station. Claire had also made it clear she didn't care if he followed her or not, but hadn't expressly forbade him from doing so.

_I know she probably wants to be as far away from me as possible right now... Can't really blame her for that. She's probably even hoping I won't try to follow her... But like **hell** I'm letting her wander around down here on her own. I made a promise to Marvin, and I'll be **damned** if I break it._

The dying officer had made him swear he would see Claire safely out of the city, and Tony Redgrave always kept his word. Marvin had kept her safe when he hadn't, and now he would repay that kindness by honoring that final request.

Promise or no, Claire Redfield would survive the night.

The snowy-haired youth doubted the young woman would find a way to argue with that, and even if the rest of their journey to escape Raccoon was in silence, he didn't care. Once they were out of the city, and safely away from the undead and monsters roaming it, he would let the girl go on her own, if that was what she really wanted. There was no point, at this time at least, in trying to change her mind.

Maybe, later, after they escaped, and if she willing to give him another chance to explain...

But now was not the time to even begin to hope for something that may never be. Right now, he had to catch up to her, and help her find those plugs to save Sherry.

With that objective decided, a goal now firmly in his sight, Tony raised both hands towards his neck, quickly re-fastening the silver chain of his amulet back around his neck as he stood to his full height. His legs started moving at the same time, walking towards the now-empty cart shaft that had carried Claire off, his icy eyes spotting a recall button. Finished with his amulet's chain, crimson-coated mercenary reached out to press the button-

*_BAM-__BAM-__BAM!_*

Three shots, one after another. They had all been muffled, but were still fairly loud, considering they were coming from just above his head.

Gaze snapping up, Tony's body reacted all on its own. The man quickly stepped directly into the shaft of the elevator cart, his legs bending just slightly before he pushed against the ground, his boots kicking him off and straight up into the air, leaping several feet high-

-before promptly crashing his head against the bottom of the parked elevator cart, sending him falling back down onto the filthy floor of the garbage-strewn storage room. Groaning, the gunslinger clutched the now-very sore spot on the crown of his head that had collided against the very sturdy metal bottom of the cart. For a moment, the stunned swordsman was wondering where he was and why he had even done that.

Then he heard two more shots, followed by a third, and the boy realized that six bullets was all the ammo Claire's small revolver could carry.

That thought prompted him to hop back onto his feet, and quickly lunge forward, fist striking the recall button for the elevator hard enough to crack it, and sent a small electrical discharge of sparks. The elevator cart above began to lower itself down, but Tony refused to wait for to lower entirely. Instead, he backed up a step, his ice blue eyes watching the cart lower by a few more feet before he leapt off the floor a second time, this time jumping at a slight angle, his right arm outstretched.

Tony's hand snatched the edge of the cart, and with a tug and a flip, the long edges of his coat flourishing behind him, he deftly pulled himself up and onto the cart in a single, smooth motion, before jumping again with enough force to force the cart down several feet. Rolling in midair, the trickster landed on both feet with a hard *_THUMP,_* his hands disappearing into his coat to produce his Colt and Beretta. Both handguns flashed out, arms crossed as he readied to open fire on whatever it was that was attacking Claire-

-when he stopped, blinking once, then again.

The white-haired gunslinger found himself in a rather cramped workroom littered with boxes and other items, the only door across from him wide open, revealing a metal walkway, with two zombies collapsed dead on the floor, the majority of their heads blown to smithereens by close range shots to the head. Stepping forward, walking over the motionless body in the center of the room, Tony entered the new area, and found himself standing on a walkway overlooking a series of pools of sewage below. Moving forward, he spied a third body ahead, slumped against a wall close to another door, a good portion of what was once its head now splattered along the wall.

A little further ways ahead was Claire, standing by a bright light by some stairs heading down, her open revolver in one hand while the other was moving, fingers reloading the spent rounds.

Tony had to admit that he was rather impressed with the efficient - dare he say ruthless - way Claire had dispatched the zombies. A part of him wondered if that was how she vented her anger. When he heard a soft groan to his left, the gunslinger turned his gaze towards the direction of the sound, glancing down and spying a zombie trying to raise itself up from where it was slumped against a wall. Behind it, a large mechanical platform had raised itself up, blocking off any chance of pursuing the path beyond it.

Casually, he pointed the Colt flush against the ghoul's temple and fired, blowing the dead man's brains out in a single loud shot, the body collapsing back against the wall it had previously laid against.

The sudden noises prompted the surprised girl to whirl around, revolver raised and pointed at Redgrave in a split-second.

"Hey..." he waved weakly. "Just me..."

For a moment, both man and woman simply stared at each other.

Then, Tony indicated the still smoking head of the zombie he had just killed, lamely calling to the college girl, "You, uh, missed one..."

All that earned him was a disgusted roll of her grey-blue eyes, before she lowered the revolver, holstering it before looking back at him, expression controlled and neutral as she called back, "Keep up, or I'm leaving you behind."

With that, she spun around, and headed down the stairs.

_Yep..._ Tony thought to himself, hunching over slightly. _She's pissed._

Holstering his own sidearms, the red-coated mercenary followed after the pink-vested biker, hoping she wouldn't be too far ahead of him by the time he had her back in his sight. Fortunately, she had not gotten very far. In the stairway was where he caught up with her, the college girl standing slightly to the side as she looked down at another body propped up against the wall.

If this particular body had looked anything like the last couple they had passed, neither would have given it any mind. But this one didn't look like any of the previous bodies of dead and undead. The last ones had all been regular people, formerly, wearing coveralls, civilian clothes, or even a reflector vest; more than likely sewer crewmen and the odd survivor looking for refuge.

This body, however, was covered head-to-toe in all-black tactical combat gear, with a gas mask and helmet obscuring their face. Definitely not a sewer worker or a civilian.

Claire looked from the body to Tony, whose eyes remained on the corpse, following his movements as the taller man crouched down next to the body. The college student watched in silence as he peered closely at the cadaver, his head moving slightly as he examined one part of it to another.

Finally, she decided to ask him the first thought on her mind, mostly to break the tense silence between them. "Is it... someone from the military?"

The youth stayed silent for another moment, his hands beginning to pat along the corpse's belt, then fish around the various pockets along the body's hips, before palpating along the upper arms, where he produced a small leather pouch lined with several shotgun shells. Tearing the bag off of the shoulder with the distinct ripping sound of Velcro, the mercenary rose back up, stuffing the shells into one of his coat's pocket's before responding.

"If he was a soldier, he's not part of any official branch I've ever heard of. There aren't any insignias on his gear, either. Could be from something covert, or a private security firm. Maybe even a hired gun."

_Something you'd know all about, I'm sure..._ she thought bitterly, but kept it to herself.

She had said her peace, and she would leave it at that. If there was a time to talk further, and only if - _IF_ \- there was anything else left to be said, it would have to happen later...

And only if they were hopefully still alive, and out of the city.

Tony was silent as well, beginning to step forward when a soft, metallic *_clink_* issued from below. Blinking, the swordsman glanced down by his feet, and spotted several shell casings lining the floor, long, thin, brass casings partially rusted thanks to the ambient moisture from the sewer pools in the area below the walkway. He crouched down to pick up a few, scanning them over, before letting them drop to the floor as he turned his attention back towards the body, his eyes looking over for something.

"His piece is missing... These came from an automatic, but he doesn't have any weapons on him. Someone must have taken whatever he had left on him."

Claire blinked at the sudden statement, while the gunman stood back up, looking at the wall behind the corpse. The woman spotted it almost as soon as she looked. The wall just slightly above where the body was collapsed against, right at about chest level with Tony himself, was an impact site, the mortar and brick partially cracked in several places. Redgrave traced a thin cracked line with a single finger for a moment, before twisting around to look at his companion, or rather, past her, down a smaller set of stairs into a dark corridor where several large tanks were lined against the wall.

His gaze dropped lower, prompting Claire to look over her shoulder to follow his line of sight.

There, collapsed on the floor, was another body in identical tactical wear as the one against the wall.

Without saying anything else, the man in red quickly moved past the young woman, and down the small flight of steps, crouching down next to this body as well, beginning to search all the pockets and pouches lining its belt. As Claire slowly followed after him, Tony raised his right hand up, showing her two small, but very dangerous hand grenades, both just a bit bigger than her whole clenched fist.

"More bang for your buck," he quipped with a smirk.

She didn't return the grin, which made the young man's own falter. She tried to ignore the sudden sting in her chest, and looked away from him. That was when she spotted what was lining the walls above the dead man.

"Tony," Claire called, pointing out with her right hand.

Redgrave followed her gesture, turning to look at the walls behind him. Both the front and wall to his right had long, jagged scratch marks across from them, reminding the pink-vested girl of the ones she had seen in the police station, but much longer and deeper. Tony stared at the gouges for a moment before glancing back down at the body.

The young mercenary dug his hand under the front of the corpse before unceremoniously flipping it over onto its back. Suddenly, the corpse reached out to him, proving itself to be undead. Before Claire could so much as cry out or raise her pistol, the mercenary sent a hard fist down its temple, before grabbing it, and smashing the side of its head onto the floor.

"Whoops..." the youth breathed out, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. "Probably should've checked him first..."

Claire let out a sigh of relief, before blinking, confounded as she saw he was still fiddling with the corpse, specifically a small, compact camera secured in a pouch on the front of the dead man's vest.

Blinking, the woman glanced back to Tony as she asked, "How did you-"

"The other guy had one, too, but his was smashed to bits. This one's still intact... For the most part," he explained as he pulled out the small recording device, his fingers running over it several times before he found the right button to open the small video cassette case. Triumphantly, Tony raised the small video cartridge high over his head, studying it with a pleased grin. "I wonder what kinda home movies we'll find in here..."

Redfield was tempted to ask him just how he planned to watch whatever was on the cassette, but decided against it. Looking past Redgrave, the young woman saw another set of steps leading further down, back into the main sluice channels of Raccoon's sewer system. After she walked around Tony, who stayed still long enough to carefully place the video cassette into one of the deeper interior pockets of his coat, he followed after her, but kept a respectable distance between them, much to her relief.

As she arrived at the base of the last set of steps, Claire wrinkled her nose down on the sewage water below, but inhaled heavily before easing herself down into the nasty stuff. Sloshing forward through the waist-high dirty water, the biker girl heard a second splash behind her, followed by Tony's groan, muffled slightly by the distance, but she could easily pick up the aggravation in his tone.

"Tch. And I was startin' to like this coat, too..."

Annoyed by his whining, his ex muttered to herself, "You can buy a new one with all the money you make at Bobby's, can't you?"

If he had heard her, he didn't respond, which was fine with her.

The duo pressed forward, wading through the sewage into a larger, open waterway. Ahead, Claire saw a gate with another raised ledge built along the wall it was connected to on the left side. There was another side passage just before the ledge, and from the sound of the flowing water emanating from it, she guessed it was probably just a dead end; a man-made ravine of sewage water from a waterfall of the stuff.

As they drew closer to the gate, Tony spoke up from behind her. "So, uh... How'd you know where to find these chess plug things, anyway?"

As much as she would've preferred silence between them after such a painful exchange, Claire was at least grateful he was only asking about their current situation, and not trying to pick up where they had left off. Arriving at the gate, she propped herself onto the ledge, and spied another locked valve and lowered gate door. Reaching into her pack to produce the t-bar crank tool, she started speaking as she went about unbarring the gate.

"There were some papers in the office area where the vault was. Mostly pamphlets and junk, but I found a map and some notes showing where the sewer workers kept some spare plugs. I found one of them, the Rook, back on that walkway we were on earlier. The last two, the Queen and King, are in a larger supply storeroom, which should be just up ahead. And if I remember that map right, there should be another stairway that'll take us back up to the treatment pool, where the cable car is, and back to the monitor room, where the vault and Sherry are."

She had the gate raised roughly to the halfway point as she finished talking, not looking back at the young man, who remained silent for a moment, before shrugging and commenting, "Sorta convenient, I guess... No idea why the sewer workers thought using plugs shaped like chess pieces was a good idea."

On that, she wholeheartedly agreed with him, the whole fetch quest utterly ridiculous and contrived. It seemed like all she had really done - forced, really - since arriving in Raccoon City, aside from struggling to survive against the walking dead and abominable monsters spawned from the very worst of nightmares, was find one strange item after another to keep moving forward, hoping the next unbarred path would be the one to let her finally escape this city of the dead.

The gate finished rising, and Claire pulled the t-bar out of the valve, and placed it back into her pack, pulling out her flashlight, and flicking it on to illuminate the heavy shadows going down a long stairway descending even deeper into the sewers. Once they were down there, it would a straight walk to the far back of the area, where the supplies storeroom should be located.

It seemed all too easy and simple. And if there was anything the youngest Redfield sibling had learned from this horrible night, it was that nothing was ever as simple or easy as it should have been.

Giving Tony a quick look and beckon with her free hand, she ordered, "Come on," before beginning down the stairway.

The crimson-coated youth, meanwhile, pulled himself up onto the ledge, thankful to be out of the sewage once again, and was moving to follow her when he paused, nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. To say something stank in a sewer was possibly the most redundant way of putting it. And while he had long gotten used to the rotting meat stench of the zombies - even the combination of waste, mold, and stagnant water didn't really bother him at this point, either - there was a sudden stench in the air more fouler than all of those combined. He noticed Claire could smell it, too, the young woman having moved her free hand over her mouth, though he still heard her gagging momentarily.

As he followed after her, Tony found himself covering his mouth and nose as well. The smell was truly rank, and the air in the stairway was warm, wet, and disgustingly humid. The further down he went, the worse it got, and he briefly wondered what could possibly be the source of such a foul odor.

He was almost entirely at the bottom, the redhead already having made it down the steps. The man watched as she took a single step forward, before pausing, then slowly resuming her pace, his ears picking up her faint whisper as she did.

"Oh my god..."

It was never a good sign when those three little words were strung together in a single sentence.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairway, Tony saw that he and Claire had arrived at another metal walkway overlooking a section of the sewer below, dim lights offering little in illumination, while a few red emergency lights also added their otherworldly glow, casting the lower section in an eerie and foreboding light. It certainly set the mood, if anything else, the man concluded as he followed after the young woman, who was standing by the guard rail of the walkway, her grey-blue eyes wide as saucers as she peered down into the area below.

When Tony caught up to her, he glanced down as well, his icy eyes narrowed as he took in the sight that had shocked his former lover so.

"...In case you're wondering, _no,_ this ain't the man upstairs at work... And yet, blasphemy just doesn't feel accurate enough a word for it."

Below in the lower area was another sewage sluice, about as filthy as both the young man and woman had been expecting. What they _hadn't_ been expecting was the numerous mounds of slimy, greasy-looking red flesh piled together in great big lumps, a few of the mounds just shy of reaching the walkway they were standing on. The strange flesh was the source of the foul odor, Tony realized. The mercenary's eyes traveled upward, spying gaps between the mounds just large enough for someone to walk through. Further ahead, he saw a ledge and a large, open tunnel way, where a lone door waited under the eerie red light of one of the emergency lamps.

It was a straightforward walk to the door, and he couldn't see any signs of zombies lurking below... or anything else for that matter.

Twisting back around, Tony ignored the small workstation to his right, and instead approached the ladder descending into the waterway at the bottom below.

Looking back to Claire, he called out to her. "I'm going down to check it out. Once I've made sure it's safe, I'll call for you."

The red-coated man's sudden words broke the collegiate girl from her stunned silence, and she quickly glanced over her shoulder just in time to watch Redgrave simply hop off of the walkway's edge instead of climbing down the ladder itself. A loud splash sounded as the white-haired young man landed, his coat flaring out, his face grimacing not from the impact, but the increased intensity of the pungent odor emanating from the flesh mounds. Both of his hands quickly moved to draw his Colt and Beretta. Crossing his arms and moving forward, Tony examined the only corner around a large mound of red flesh, and saw a single body, a dead man, propped atop a short ledge lining the wall, a bright lamp illuminating the motionless body.

Watching the limp corpse for a moment, the gunslinger cautiously lowered his firearms, his eyes slowly moving about. The sewer water was stilling, the ripples formed from his landing impact settling back into a still surface. There were no other movements or sounds, but it did little to ease his mind.

Turning his gaze upward, the gunman spotted Claire waiting by the ladder, crouched slightly as she watched him.

"Come on down. It looks clear," he relayed to her.

Nodding, the pink vest-wearing biker girl made her descent down the ladder, while the red-clad merc himself took a few steps forward, holstering his handguns as he sloshed through the sewage, his eyes locked on the body propped up on the ledge. His instincts were on edge, and it had something to do with the body, though he was unsure as to what exactly. It looked like most of the other corpses he had seen so far in Raccoon City, skin gray and rotting, clothes bloodstained and dirty, though the guy had a beer gut, it seemed, his shirt distended slightly around his rising gut.

Behind him, Claire finished her descent, and was moving quickly to catch up with the pale-haired boy. Tony paused just a few feet from the body, his left arm extending out in front of the young redhead, stopping her. She blinked in confusion, looking at the taller man. Noticing that his gaze was locked ahead, she followed his line of sight.

The crimson-coated mercenary was intently staring at the still body on the ledge, though the auburn-haired woman didn't see anything peculiar about it. Then, Tony took another step forward-

-and the corpse jerked, its abdomen spasming. Horror and realization struck Claire before she heard the familiar sound of cracking ribs and tearing flesh-

-when the bloody stomach of the body exploded, a hideous screech emitting from the squirming lump of flesh struggling to pull itself free from its undead womb.

Before the frightened young woman could make a sound - a scream or warning cry, she wasn't sure - Tony reacted first.

His right hand shot over his shoulder, drawing his gothic longsword in a single motion, before bringing it forward, perfectly in time with the body-bursting creature. The barbed tip ran through its long form, blood splashing in the dirty water around them. The creature screeched again, in horrible pain no doubt, and struggled frantically to free itself from the sword, but its struggles ceased after several moments. The swordmaster drew his arm back, leveling his blade in front of himself, looking the creature over.

Despite the horror and disgust she felt seeing such a creature once again, the college student found she couldn't look away either, and took in the monstrosity for all it was.

It was about as long as Tony's arm, a thin, fleshy tail trailing behind it, several long and small feelers and nubs on its underside approximately, where a regular human's arms and legs would be on their torso, stretched flesh rising across its back somewhat like a hump. Redgrave raised his sword slightly, peering at its underside, and Claire felt her gorge rise when she saw the blade had missed a gaping hole already open on the creature's belly, where a set of human-looking teeth hung open.

The youth glanced back at the redheaded girl, his expression unreadable as he asked her a single question. "You see something like this burst outta Old Man Irons?"

The inquiry brought back unwanted memories - fresher than she had realized - as Claire easily recalled the corrupt police chief's agonized scream as his large abdomen burst open. The college girl hadn't gotten an exact look at the horror that had pulled itself free from Irons' body, but both creatures had made the same terrible screech upon their 'birth.'

Remaining silent, she simply nodded her affirmation.

Tony turned his attention back to the dead implant impaled on his sword, his left hand reaching out to touch the fleshy hump on its back. To Claire's disgust and horrified awe, she watched as his fingers peel the fleshly lid back...

Exposing a dull, orange eye. While much smaller than the one she had seen on the creature Sherry had called 'Daddy,' she recognized it all the same.

Almost instantly, she understood.

"The G-Carrier's spawn..." he murmured to himself.

Pulling his hand away while flinging it thoroughly, the swordsman sharply flicked his blade, casting the dead parasite off of it. The deceased creature landed in the sewer water with a splash. Sheathing his blade back across his back, Tony sloshed through the waters, towards a large mound of flesh.

Claire blinked, following his sudden movements...

And saw the boy pull himself onto the mound, where multiple bodies lay. Each bore the same burst abdomen as the corpse across from where they lay. The woman felt her heart climb into her throat.

"How... How _many?_" she asked quietly.

Tony stood over the bodies, his head moving slowly from one side to the other.

"I count four... And that's just the ones I can see."

Both the young man and woman understood exactly where they were now.

They had found the nest the spawn had made for themselves...

Redgrave looked away from the bodies, turning his gaze towards the edge of the flesh mound, where it led to a short drop into the main section of the sewage on the opposite side. Tony approached the edge, glancing down before looking back up, his icy eyes studying the path before them. More rising piles of strange, tumor-like flesh heaps, some forming mounds too high to climb on, but there was a traversable path between them.

Hearing a soft splash behind him, the boy looked over his shoulder in time to see Claire hoist herself up, the young woman carefully rising to her feet, trying to avoid looking at the bodies as she did so. Once she rose to her full height, Tony held up his right hand, blocking her. The college girl blinked, looking from his hand to his face, unnerved to see a serious expression on the normally-aloof mercenary's handsome face.

"Nuh-uh. Go back up the ladder, and wait for me there. I'll go on ahead, and grab the plugs from the storage room in the back. It'll be safer if you stay up there."

Somewhat insulted, the biker girl shot the youth a glare before retorting, "I can handle myself, thank you very much. Waiting around would be a waste of time, anyway. This'll go faster if we both go."

Tony cocked a brow, pulling his arm back, and crossing both of them over his chest before replying, "There's gotta be more than one of them down here; possibly a _lot_ more. I got lucky with the first one, getting the drop on it before it even knew I was there. But this is their home turf, Claire, and they'll be ready and waiting for us. If they aren't already."

Undeterred, Claire quickly countered, "All the more reason for me to come with you, then! I can watch your back, keep an eye out in case they try to sneak up on us while you cover the front. That way, it's safe for us both... Or would you rather _I _take the lead?"

The young mercenary held her gaze for a long moment, but when he saw she was refusing to back down, he sighed, tilting his head back and shaking it, muttering to himself as he did.

"I just can't win with you, can I?..."

Despite herself, Claire found the corners of her lips twitching in smile, but she quickly forced the familiar feelings away once Tony lowered his head, slowly turning around, drawing his longsword as he did.

Eyes set forward, he spoke again, keeping his gaze front and center. "I'll be taking the lead. No offense, but I'm a bit sturdier. You cover the rear, and you shout if you see one of them comin' from behind, the side, or anywhere else. I know I can handle one of these things one-on-one, but I'm not exactly eager to test my luck against two or three just yet..."

With that said, he hopped off the ledge, landing in the sewage, and started forward. The redhead was already moving to follow him automatically, but paused, looking at her small revolver before quickly holstering it, and pulling the grenade launcher slung over her back out, gripping the light but deadly weapon with both hands. She had two spare shells left, and it would hurt those things more than either of her sidearms at the very least.

With that decided, she quickly hopped off the ledge, sloshing after Tony, who had stopped roughly six feet away, his eyes narrowed, his head turning back and forth in a slow, careful manner. The confused student was about to inquire as to what the snowy-haired man was listening for... when she heard it herself. A sound that chilled her to her core. It was unexpected, and utterly familiar, yet somehow different all the same.

Soft, wordless singing, or rather humming. A lyric-less, nonsensical sound, but much too similar to what it was clearly imitating. For a moment, Claire allowed herself to believe it might be another survivor, perhaps wordlessly calling for help, but even she couldn't fool herself as to what was more than likely making the sound.

Looking to Tony, she whispered to him, "Are... Are _they_ making that sound?"

Without replying, the gunman reached into his coat with his free hand, drawing his Colt, and pulling the hammer back with a soft *_click._*

"Ignore it. Keep your eyes peeled."

His words were quick and curt, but she understood his reasoning. One false move, one missed sighting...

The red-coated gunslinger resumed his walk, sloshing through the sewage, his ice-blue eyes looking from one mound of flesh to another, absently noticing how the substance seemed to expand and exhale on its own, like lungs. Or maybe it was just the shadows playing tricks on his eyes. Somehow, he doubted it.

Behind him, Claire followed his steps, her own grey-blue eyes jumping from one sight to the next, never quite sure if it was just her overactive imagination fooling her into thinking she was seeing something moving under the dirty waste water, or the large mounds of flesh expanding on their own accord. But if her eyes lingered too long on one spot, another movement would flicker in the corner of the other, prompting her to quickly snap her gaze away. She and Tony reached a curve, turning to the left as they did-

-when the young man came to a sudden halt, his left arm shooting out, stopping Redfield from following. Blinking, the biker girl looked past his arm, and tried to see what it was that had stopped him in his tracks. She hadn't heard anything, just the movements of the water from their own steps, and that strange humming song. And then she spied what Tony had seen, which had made him stop.

There, lying in the center of the next open path between the rising flesh mounds, was a smaller lump of red and purple tumor-like flesh. But among the folds, was a glowing orange eye.

Acting before she could think, Tony's arm snapped straight, his finger squeezing on his handgun's trigger, firing off two shots. Both projectiles struck the mound, and the effect was instant. The water exploded, and a large creature - a twin of the one that had first attacked her - rose up in a wave of filth, screeching its otherworldly, hissing screech, its hideous grinning face locked on Tony. The eye on its left shoulder bleeding bright orange tears of blood, the beast lumbered toward its attacker.

Redgrave shoved his pistol back into his holster and charged forward, both hands gripping the hilt of his blade, drawing the greatsword back for a mighty slash for the creature's long neck. But the monster suddenly drew its massive left arm up and back, a splash of sewage striking Tony's face, making him stumble, gagging as used his left hand to wipe at his stinging eyes.

Watching in stunned horror, Claire screamed out, "_LOOK OUT!_"

The creature swung its over-sized arm down, seemingly attempting to squash the youth with one giant, three-fingered palm, but the white-haired mercenary either heard her warning, or sensed its attack, easily retreating out of the range of its strike, the enormous mitt hitting the water, and causing another large wave. Growling in anger and disgust both - each directed at the monster for hitting him with the filthy sewage water - the swordsman jumped out of the waist-high waste, almost fifteen feet in the air, before landing hard on the beast's shoulders, causing it to stagger, its long neck craning back so its grinning face could hiss up at its attacker. Sneering back, Tony reversed his hold on Woozy, and brought the barbed tip down hard, aiming for its glowing eye.

The creature made a quick jerk, trying to shake the man off of itself, the sudden movement causing the swordmaster's lunge to miss its mark, the barbed tip of his blade digging into approximately where a normal human's shoulder blade would be, sending a gush of glowing orange blood splashing into the dirty water below.

Claire meanwhile, maneuvered herself behind the struggling monster and mercenary, moving around its right side, backing up and raising the grenade launcher, before quickly dropping it, letting it hang by the belt strap over her shoulder. Shooting a grenade off at such close quarters would only hurt herself, as well as Tony, who was still atop the creature. And she wasn't sure either of her revolvers would be much better, the very real possibility a stray round hitting the young man crossing her mind. The college girl had momentarily forgot about her ex-beau's supernatural healing ability, as well as her surroundings...

As Tony struggled to keep both his grip on Woozy and his booted feet from sliding off the jerking adult G-Spawn's slick flesh, he caught a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. A quick dash of pink fell into his gaze, and he spotted Claire running ahead, raising her launcher before letting it fall, a conflicted look on her face-

-while behind her, a large knoll of flesh rose up from the nasty water, moving quickly for the unaware college girl.

Eyes widening, he shouted, "_CLAIRE, BEHIND YOU!_"

The auburn-haired woman spun around at the sound of Tony's warning, her grey eyes wide with terror as she saw the charging creature, its hideous grin rising from the flowing waves. But this time, Claire reacted to it rather than stand still. Lunging itself forward, the creature's massive arm shot out to snatch her, but she had gone for its blind spot, allowing her to dive into the sewage, and quickly kick away from where she had been standing. Unable to stop itself, the second G-Spawn slammed into its sibling, causing both to fall forward, letting the swordsman rip his blade free and somersault through the air, landing a few paces behind Claire as she rose from the sewage, coughing and gasping.

The two monsters fumbled over themselves, and the mercenary decided it was better to just let them be instead of wasting time killing them. Slinging Woozy over his shoulder, Tony turned back to Claire, who was heading for a raised ledge that led to the doorway of the storage area. The girl pulled herself onto the cement platform, looking back at her fellow survivor-

-and her eyes went wide as she screamed, "_TONY!_"

But her warning didn't have him react fast enough, the red-coated man passing a large sewage sluice, a flood of the nasty liquid splashing onto him before the massive body of a third G-Spawn slammed directly on top of him as the beast pulled itself free from the pipe. Tony choked and gagged underwater, before finding himself snatched by the creature's large hand, the monster hoisting him out of the disgusting filth, its hideous face sneering down on him, the front splitting open into four fleshly lids, the inner mouth leaking a disgusting purple muck and dozens of maggots as it moved to engulf his face-

-but was met by Redgrave shoving his right arm deep down into its gullet, before yanking the arm back at the same time the creature flinched back, choking. Tony was released from its grasp as the man held his right hand up with a savage grin, a small pin ring dangling off his middle finger.

"Chew on _that!_"

No sooner had he spoke did the belly of the beast burst in an explosion of flames and smoke, the monster howling in agony as its body was attacked internally by explosive fire and shrapnel, orange blood gushing out of its inner mouth, the abomination staggering in place.

Tony allowed himself a triumphant grin before he heard more splashing. A quick turn of his gaze confirmed the other two G-Spawns were lumbering his way, and while the third had clearly taken a lot of damage from the grenade he had shoved down its throat, it refused to fall over, and began to menacingly drag itself after him as well.

"_Tony, come on!_" Claire called from behind him.

The man snarled under his breath. While somewhat satisfied to have hurt two of them - one more badly than the other - the part of him hounding for more was infuriated to leave the creatures alive. But he reigned it in, letting reason win again. Bending his knees, Tony back-flipped out of the water, soaring backwards through the air, coat tails flapping wetly as he landed on the platform next to his partner, both hands producing his Beretta and Colt, and pointing them at the advancing monstrosities, Claire joining him with her grenade launcher.

But the beasts only took a few steps before stopping, glaring at the out of reach humans for a moment, before lowering their large bodies back into the water, vanishing entirely in moments. The sewage water rippled slightly in small waves, but after several moments, went still. Both youths kept their weapons on the spot where the creatures had vanished, but there was no more movement, and the strange, humming song had ceased as well.

Letting his eyes linger where the creatures had vanished to for another second, Redgrave drew his arms back, giving both handguns a spin before holstering them again. Claire lowered her launcher as well, looking to Tony for a moment before slinging it back across her back.

"They didn't try to follow us up here," the college girl noted.

Tony scoffed.

"Too big to haul their fat ugly asses after us," he concluded.

The pale-haired man looked over his soaked clothes in dismay, flinging his arms, and shaking his legs to get the clinging muck off of himself. Claire wasn't much better off, absently wiping her mouth in a futile attempt to get rid of the lingering foul aftertaste of the sewage water out of her mouth. Both turned towards the lone door behind them, another festering mound of flesh growing along the wall to its right.

Claire went for it first, opening the door, and seeing a new stairway rising into the storeroom. Looking back at Tony, she gave a quick nod, before heading up the stairs. The young man looked back at the spot where the creatures had sunk into the water before following after her. It was a short flight of stairs, the duo arriving at the top in a moment.

The woman was tempted to look over the work desk in the corner next to the open doorway, but a quick glance told her there was nothing important there, just old buckets and piles of lumber. Moving through the opening, Tony a few steps behind, the two arrived into what had to be the actual storage area, their footsteps clanging softly on the metal walkway, mesh fences lining the railings to ensure no one would plunge over. Another walk across the pathway, and they arrived next a large metallic shelf unit filled with dozens on dozens of small boxes.

Tony looked the boxes over, before looking back to the college student and asking, "Think they're in one of these?"

Claire looked at the boxes as well, but shook her head, saying, "I don't think so."

Glancing behind her, she saw another set of stairs descending down into the lower floor. Turning back to the boy, the young woman quickly rifled through her side pack, producing the first plug she had found in the upper sewers: a white rook piece atop it.

Showing it to the man in red, she explained, "I found this one on a panel in the wall, just sticking out. When I removed it, the walkway in the corridor in front of it went up, so the king and queen plugs might be in something similar."

Before she could move to put the plug back in her pack, Tony deftly snatched the small item out of her hand, giving it a look over, then shook his head in disgust.

"If these people sat down and thought about all these little gimmicks they like to use, they'd probably realize they're not being nearly as clever as they think they are."

Claire snatched the plug out of his hand, shoving it back into her side pack while snapping, "Cut the crap, and help me find the plugs, already. I've been away from Sherry for too long."

Tony's eyes fell at her remark, but he simply nodded, and took the lead down the stairway, walking down into the lower level and towards a wire mesh door gate. The red-clad swordsman looked it over, his icy eyes scanning over the surface before spotting a electronic panel on the left hand side, a red light glowing on it, and an empty socket by the light. As the young man studied the panel, Claire finished walking down the steps and turned for the left corner alcove Tony had ignored.

She found an open door panel in the wall mesh gate, and after stepping through, turned around to find a second panel, this one on the right of the open gateway, and with a plug already set in the slot. Pulling out her flashlight, the redhead grinned when she saw it was the queen piece. Just as Tony had turned away from the first locked gate, the biker girl pulled the plug free from the slot-

-and a soft electronic 'beep' issued, quickly followed by the previously open mesh gate slamming closed, cutting both male and female off from each other. Claire flinched at the sudden motion and noise, stepping back, while the youth simply stepped up to the gate, and gave it a bemused look over.

"Hold on, I'll put the plug back-" she started to say, but Tony simply reached out with his right hand, slipping his fingers through the empty holes in the mesh to grasp it firmly, and without so much as a grunt, shoved the mechanical door back into its slot. Blinking, somewhat stunned by the rather mundane show of strength on Redgrave's part, Claire absently stepped back to allow the taller man through the open pathway.

Walking past her and further back into the main lower section of the storeroom, Tony turned right to observe the opposite side of the first mesh door he had been studying. When he saw no panel, he walked across from it to another section cut off by more wire mesh walls. He found a locked door panel in front of it, along with another panel with a red light and empty slot, and chuckled mirthlessly.

"Yep. I see what the game is."

Before the collegiate girl could respond to that, the crimson-coated gunslinger looked back towards her, raising his right hand up before saying, "Toss me that plug you just found, wouldja?"

Understanding dawned on her, and she wanted to slap her forehead for not getting it as fast as Tony had. Knowing what he was about to do, Claire nodded and threw the plug, the man catching it without even looking. The white-haired youth then slid the plug into the empty slot, which made the red light turn green and the door panel slide open.

Instead of walking through the open passage, Tony promptly yanked the plug out, his free hand catching the door panel before it closed entirely. With what seemed like a gentle push on his part, the swordsman promptly pushed this gate back into its slot as well, the panel sparking next to him, the red light flashing erratically before powering down. Grinning smugly, he tossed the Queen Plug back to Claire before moving through the open doorway, discovering a second set of stairs inside.

Catching the plug and slipping it back into her pouch as the young man started ascending the stairway, the girl muttered to herself, "I don't think they had someone like you in mind when they were making this little puzzle..."

Just as she finished zipping her pack up, a loud *_thump_* made her snap her gaze back up, her flashlight finding the source of the sound when she spied a body collapsed on the floor by the stairway Tony had ascended: a man in bloody coveralls. As expected, the corpse uttered a deep groan before staggering up, turning its pale eyes on the college girl, its torn jaws parting open in a hungry groan, feebly reaching out with its left arm while its right hung uselessly at its side. Rolling her eyes in annoyance but taking a cautious step back, she reached for her revolver at her side-

-only for a red blur to descend down in front of her, Tony Redgrave reappearing in a flourish of his coattails, his right hand drawing his great sword out, swinging it once in the same motion. A slick sound of flesh spitting issued, followed by a second *_thump,_* then a third as the body followed its head to the floor. Turning back to Claire as he sheathed his sword, Tony presented a second plug to her, the white chess piece depicted atop the king piece.

With a relieved sigh, she accepted the plug, opening her pack again to place it next to the other two pieces: the rook and the queen. They had found all three, and in much shorter time than she had thought it would take.

"Now we just have to find a way around those monsters to get back to Sherry..." she murmured to herself.

If Tony heard her, he didn't indicate that he had. Instead, the red-clad mercenary was walking down the middle pathway between the two wire meshed off walls, approaching a door at the end Claire hadn't noticed initially.

The man gripped the door's handle, finding it locked securely with a single tug. A second tug, only a hair stronger than the first, saw the door opened, the lock snapping audibly. Pulling the door open entirely, the gunman stepped into the new room, where a single long, yellow and black object was stocked onto a lone rack on the far wall.

Claire didn't follow after the youth, instead watching as he removed the object from the rack, giving it a look over before walking back over to her. In the glow of her flashlight, she was better able to see exactly what he had found. Unsurprisingly, it was another type of gun, though not like any kind she had ever seen before.

It was shaped like a rifle stock, similar in length to the Remington shotgun the gunslinger had procured from the police station armory, the top half of it a dull yellow, the bottom black, a sight set just above where the handle and trigger were. But the barrels at the end had two small needles sticking out of it, where a large black magazine clip was locked just under. The Umbrella logo and name were on its side as well, which the young student took to mean they were the weapon's creator.

Tony was looking the strange rifle over, even detaching the magazine clip to look inside it. The biker girl snuck a glance as well, and saw a few more needle cartridges stacked inside. He slapped the clip back home, and turned away from her, moving to line himself up about five feet away from the body of the decapitated zombie. He raised the strange rifle, lined the sight up with the body's torso, and squeezed the trigger.

A soft mechanical *_fwip_* sounded, and the twin needles struck the body. Ozone filled the air, and the body began to twitch and jerk, making Claire flinch and blink in surprise. Then she saw the wires connecting to the two needles sticking out of the corpse, small arcs of blue sparks issuing from the rifle into the wires, traveling down their length and into the body, each jolt seeming to grow in charge, the body's movements growing more erratic, the limbs spasming and jerking.

Tony meanwhile, was observing a small L.E.D. gauge on the rifle, which was fluctuating from green, to yellow and orange, then flashing red. An understanding grin formed on his lips as he waited another moment, watching the readout turn red before releasing the trigger. The effect was instant, and, well, shocking.

A powerful bolt of electricity charged down the connecting wires, connecting to the needles in the body, which exploded in an arc of artificial lightning that exploded out of the body, blowing off its hands and feet in a burst of gore and smoke.

Unable to stop herself, Claire let out a shocked cry, stepping back, eyes wide.

Tony drew the rifle back, giving it an appreciative look over before his lips curled into a familiar shit-eating grin.

"I think I just figured out how to get rid of those eyeballed freaks out there, now."

* * *

Minutes later, Tony Redgrave was casually sloshing his way through the sewage water back outside of the storeroom, his icy eyes observing the large mounds of flesh in the G-Spawns' nest, his ears once more picking up the curious humming song. Stopping next to the sewage pipe jutting out of the wall where the third G-Spawn had pulled itself out, the man in red placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward, cocking his head slightly as his hearing caught a new sound under the strange wordless song. Heavy splashes of something, or rather somethings, approaching slowly.

Smirk returning, Redgrave leaned back and waited. From around the corner of one of the higher piles of discarded flesh, two of the adult G-Spawns lumbered into view, their long necks weaving slightly, their grinning snake like heads slithering in the air as they locked their sightless eyes on the lone male. As they rounded the corner, staggering closer and closer to the stationary swordsman, behind them, the nasty filth water bubbled and frothed, the third adult Spawn rising up, this one covered with burns, and leaking long strings of drool and dull, glowing orange blood. Tony instantly recognized it as the one he had fed the grenade with.

Grin widening, the boy gave the three abominations a two-finger wave before exclaiming, "Hey, there you guys are! Y'know, you're pretty quick for such wide loads."

The lead G-Spawn's face split open, a long hissing growl emanating from its internal mouth, purple gunk and maggots spilling out into the sewage water below it. Unimpressed, Tony crouched slightly, beckoning the approaching monsters with a laugh.

"Come on, you can do it! Over here!"

Seeing their prey remaining stationary, mocking them openly, the three G-Spawn advanced just a bit faster, heavy splashes sending strong ripples and waves across the sewage. In a moment, they were nearly on top of the red-coated swordsman, the lead G-Spawn drawing its massive arm back, its inner mouth snaking out as it prepared to strike. Completely unafraid, the merc sneered up at the looming monstrosity.

"Haha, right where I wantcha!" he declared with a laugh.

Then, the white-haired man crouched and jumped straight into the air with a shout of, "_NOW!_"

The front G-Spawn stopped in its tracks as its prey soared up and above it, while from the raised ledge less than twenty feet away, Claire Redfield held the yellow and black electrical rifle, dubbed the "Spark Shot" by her ex-boyfriend. With the sight lined on the front G-Spawn, she squeezed the trigger, shooting the twin needles and wires straight at the creature. As soon as the projectiles punctured the beast's thick, rubbery skin, small charges of electricity began discharging down the wires and into its body, making it lock up and twitch painfully, small lines of smoke beginning to waft from where the needles had punctured its flesh.

Tony landed on top of the same drain pipe the third G-Spawn had crawled out of, watching the lead monster jerk and writhe in obvious pain as the growing electrical charge continued to pump into its body, its two siblings behind it watching the display in dumb confusion. The gunslinger grinned ferociously, enjoying the morbid show while Claire watched the display readout on the Spark Shot's sight. When the flashing light glowed bright red, she released the trigger.

The wiring connected to the lead G-Spawn lit up, glowing an intense mix of blue and white, a powerful surge of electricity charging directly into its body, which exploded outwards in a burst of white lightning. The sewage water the beast was standing in became alive with arcing bolts of man-made lightning, each bolt finding a target to strike, from the pulsing, smoking mounds of piled flesh, to the two G-Spawn adults behind their lead sibling. Each creature screeched in agony, their bodies spasming, burning and frying at the same time, the intensity of the amplified electricity causing their large orange eyes on their shoulders to explode in bursts of glowing gore.

With one final dying hiss from each, all three collapsed into the sewage with a single splash, their bodies twitching in death throes, small sparks bouncing off their burning skin. Above, Tony whooped and hollered, clapping his hands and looking back at Claire, who had a more subdued, stunned expression at the display of death.

"Told ya it would work!" he called out to her before leaping off of the pipe and landing on the cement ledge next to Claire.

The female Redfield had to admit, to herself at least, that the Spark Shot had done its job like Tony had said it would, the released shot of lightning amplified by the water the creatures had been standing in, killing all three with a single strike.

Turning to the grinning young man and offering him the rifle, the young woman moved past him while saying, "Right. Come on, Sherry's waiting for me."

Sighing, but letting it go, Tony held the Spark Shot with a single hand, resting it on the crux of his shoulder as he followed after the girl. The two descended back into the sewage water, the charge from the Spark Shot having dissipated entirely, and they quickly sloshed their way around the twitching corpses. An exit from the main nest presented itself not to far from the bodies, a rising slope of a smoking flesh mound allowing them to climb it and make their way back to where they had arrived.

Before Claire could hop off of the edge of the mound, Tony moved in front of her, extending the arm that held the Spark Shot out to block her. The biker girl gave the taller male an annoyed look, which became a confused expression as Redgrave reached into his coat and produced the last of the two grenades he had taken from the body of the armored dead man they had come across earlier. Without a word, he slipped his thumb into the ring of the pin, popped it out, and casually tossed the grenade.

It sailed through the air, landing about seven feet away from where the descending ladder was jutting down from the platform above. A moment later, the water exploded in a rain of sewage and shrapnel, the sound drowning out as a pained hissing screech cried out, the wobbling form of a badly burned G-Spawn, rising out of the sewage and screaming its pain and fury, its shoulder eye a dull red and weeping orange tears of blood. Before the redheaded woman had a chance to react, Tony sprung into action, literally.

The gunslinger leapt off of the flesh mound's slope, drawing his longsword as he sailed downward, reversing the blade so it was pointed downward, aimed directly for the monster's bloody eye. Redgrave slammed into the beast's front, his sword piercing through its shoulder eye in a spray of glowing blood and tearing flesh. The G-Spawn let out a warbly death cry, its body pitching backwards from the force of the impact of Tony's frontal strike, a small splash of sewage issuing as it finished falling over entirely.

Standing atop the dead abomination, Redgrave calmly ripped his sword free from its shoulder socket, flinging the lingering clumps of flesh and blood off of the blade's dark metal, while behind him, Claire carefully hopped off of the flesh slope's edge, landing with a gentle splash near the first corpse they had seen upon descending.

Tony turned to face the college girl, sheathing his sword back over his shoulder before commenting, "And that makes four."

It took the college girl a second to remember what he was referring to" the number of bodies piled nearby; the G-Spawns unlucky host wombs.

Just as Claire reached the burned and bleeding body of the final dead G-Spawn, Tony gave her a sudden salute and cocky smirk before saying, "See ya at the top."

Then he promptly kicked off of the dead G-Spawn, soaring the entire length of the ladder before back-flipping in midair, vanishing over the rail of the platform above, where he landed with a dull metallic *_thump_* as his boots struck the metal floor grating. The woman stared up in flabbergasted silence, unable to believe he had left her behind like he had.

With an eye roll, she moved towards the ladder, beginning the long climb back up while murmuring to herself, "I swear, it's almost like he _wants_ me to shoot him..."

* * *

Upon arriving back at the top of the ladder and back onto the metal walkway overlooking the bottom of the storeroom, Claire led Tony across the small connecting pathway and up a second flight of stairs, where she found the locked gate door that would take them back to the bottom of the stairs leading up to the Treatment Pool Room. Using the t-shaped handle bar a final time, Claire opened the locked gate door, leaving the handle bar in the old valve lock once she was finished. With the gate opened, the girl power-walked through the lower waterway, ignoring the bodies of the zombies she had put down previously, her fellow survivor only sparing them a glance before following her up the stars.

The redhead arrived back in the treatment pool, quickly making a mad dash across the lowered walkway, Tony following her at a more leisurely pace, observing the new location as he walked, his icy gaze lingering on the cable car in the distance before returning his view forward. Claire reached the door to the monitor room first, shoving it open and quickly walking inside. She paused at the built-in wall window long enough to stare at Sherry, who remained where she had collapsed earlier.

The biker girl felt her heart ache at the sight of the child simply lying there, looking so small and vulnerable. But as far as the older girl could see from her vantage point, nothing had been able to get to Sherry, and she didn't seem any worse for wear. Moving away from the window and resuming her quick pace, Claire reached into her side pack, digging for the three chess plugs, and moving into the back section of the room where the electronic panels to insert them were. Behind her, Tony entered the monitor room, giving it a quick look over, his eyes falling on the wall windows.

Looking through them, he saw the little girl collapsed on the floor of a trash compactor area just below them. Stepping away from the window, a forlorn expression briefly appeared on his face before he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Looking ahead to properly see what it was, the young man's eyes widened slightly when he saw it was a table next to a large storage crate, a whiteboard attached to the wall behind it, while atop the table was a small television and VCR set next to it.

The man's right hand slipped inside his coat, producing the small cassette tape he had procured from the dead soldier's body.

"Time to see what you saw..." the swordsman murmured to himself.

Claire, meanwhile, was looking over the electronic panels lining the far wall next to the large vault door, resisting the urge to pull her hair out as she came across _ANOTHER_ step in this insane puzzle.

When she had first checked the panels back when she stumbled across the locked vault door, she had seen the panel across from the door had a sticker on the inside of its case, marking it as the 'Pawn Panel,' but the other two next to it had no corresponding pictures to tell her which plugs went into the necessary panels. The ones across from it weren't much better off, except she had seen the Knight Plug was in the wrong place, so she had moved it to the last one marked with a sticker of the same plug. She didn't want to waste time trying each plug in a different panel until she stumbled across the right sequence, but she wasn't sure what else she could do.

Remembering she had found a useful map to finding the missing plugs at the wall full of documents next to both panel walls, the woman quickly stalked over to it, looking for anything useful to help her. Her luck seemingly turning around, she found a small post-it note at the forefront among the rest of them, and she ripped it off the wall, eyes poring over the quick scrawl, a grin returning to her face as it turned out to be exactly what she needed. The note read:

**Pretty sure the rook and knight are on the same wall and the bishop and queen aren't next to each other. The queen and rook were opposite each other, too.**

It didn't tell her exactly where each plug was supposed to be inserted, but it gave her a better idea. Returning to the wall opposite of the one with the Pawn Plug panel, Claire moved next to the empty panel where she had found the Knight Plug. Reading the note over again, she concluded that neither the Queen or King Plugs went in either of the two panels, just the Rook and the Bishop.

Taking an educated guess, she slipped the Rook into the center panel, the darkened power light turning white in response, same as the one on the pawn's panel. Moving to the next, Claire inserted the Bishop Plug, then moved to the opposite side of the room. Checking the note again, the student inserted the Queen Plug into the middle panel so it was opposite of the Rook, just like the note said, and placed the King into the last empty panel slot.

Behind her, Claire heard a soft mechanical hiss, and as she whirled around, she saw the vault door's front lock turn on its own, while the three large locks released next to it. All on its own, the massive metal door swung open. Unable to contain her relief, Claire sighed, her smile warming up.

_Alright, Sherry... I'm on my way!_

She was just about to race through the opened doorway when she heard something like gunfire behind her, but softer, with a pained voice calling out under it. Blinking and turning around, Claire saw Tony standing in front of the small TV and VCR set up on the table next to the storage crate, the man intensely watching the flashing images on the screen. Blinking, silently, the woman walked over to where the man was standing.

Seeing her approach out of the corner of his eye, Tony reached out, pressing the rewind button on the VCR, rewinding the video to its beginning just as she stood him. The crimson-coated man released the button, letting the video play again. Even though she had wanted to reach Sherry as fast as she could, Claire couldn't help but watch as the video began to replay...

Electronic static briefly overtook the screen before clearing up, showing what the soldier's camera had last recorded in the man's final moments. In the top left corner of the screen, a date readout hung, showing the video had been recorded on September 23rd, 1998, while in the right hand bottom corner, the name A. Kirkpatrick was shown, with a set of serial numbers under the name, though their meaning was lost to Claire.

Kirkpatrick's camera showed the man's hand on the floor, feebly reaching out for a set of smashed test tubes, a strange green fluid splashed on the floor next to the broken glass, beside a large metal briefcase, the man moaning weakly and pleading pathetically,_ "Please... Oh... Please... Stop... S-stop!"_

Rising over Kirkpatrick's weak pleading was another man's grunts and screams, followed by rapid gunfire from what Claire guessed was a high-powered machine gun. Kirkpatrick continued to reach out for the case, and she saw more test tubes filled with that green fluid, and other ones filled with a purple liquid. A shadow passed over the case, the video briefly cutting out into static snow a second time.

When it corrected itself, Kirkpatrick was weakly crying out, _"Don't... Don't... No... No... No!"_ as a large figure bent over, picking up the case and raising it over their head, violently shaking it, and spilling more of the test tubes out, the vials shattering on impact with the cement floor. Less than two feet away from the towering person, a second soldier was firing their machine gun at the figure, screaming in fury as he did, taunting them.

_"**OVER HERE, YOU FREAK!**"_

The towering person threw the case aside, and Claire was able to see it more clearly now, realizing it was the monster Tony had fought in the power plant underneath the police station in its first form, still looking somewhat human, save for the massively swollen right arm. The video cut in and out, Kirkpatrick pleading, _"Don't hurt him... Don't hurt him...!"_ as the monster stalked towards the soldier firing at it, seemingly unaffected by the bullets striking it.

With a single swipe of its massive arm, the creature sent the man flying and slamming into a nearby wall hard enough to crack it, the sound of shattering bones rising over the sudden deafened gunfire. The soldier fell to the floor in a crumpled lump, while Kirkpatrick's camera fell back down, catching sight of a few large rats hungrily licking at the spilled green fluid from the shattered vials and test tubes. The terrified soldier could only pant in fear as the creature stomped towards him, sending the rats scattering, the monster's swollen foot crushing the last intact vial as it reached Kirkpatrick-

-and the video promptly cut off, ending in a shower of static snow.

For a moment that stretched on, neither Tony nor Claire said anything.

For once, when the silence was finally broken, it was the woman who spoke first.

"Well... Glad I watched that..." she murmured, tone sardonic, but there was just the slightest tremble in her voice.

Tony remained quiet, his hand reaching out again to tap the play button on the VCR, the video restarting.

Claire blinked, asking in confusion, "Why are you...?"

But Tony ignored her inquiry, his finger hitting the fast forward button this time. The screen flickered between images of flashing static, Kirkpatrick's feeble movements and his comrade's last stand before he hit the play button a second time, right on the scene of the swollen-armed monster swatting the shooting soldier against the wall. As Kirkpatrick collapsed in grief a second time, the youth's finger quickly pressed down on the pause button, freezing the image on the TV screen on the large rats lapping at the fluid spilled from the various broken vials.

Pulling his hand back, he stared at the rodents, his icy eyes intense as he raised his hand again, pointing to the vermin on the screen before finally speaking.

"It was the rats. That's how Raccoon City became this city of the dead."

Claire blinked, giving Redgrave a curious expression, a flicker of disbelief in her eyes before asking another question. "What makes you say that?"

Still pointing at the screen, the young mercenary began to elaborate. "Well, the mystery muck they were licking up was my first clue. Then there was soldier boy's freak-out when the big freak started smashing the vials..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes studying the rodents on the screen again before continuing.

"And I couldn't help but remember this one guy at Bobby's one night a while back. He freaked out when he saw a rat scrambling under the tables. Poor schmuck was screaming about all the diseases and plagues they spread back in the old medieval days... And history does tend to repeat itself. Only instead of the dead just laying out on the streets and gathering flies, they decided to get up and walk around."

Despite herself, Claire had to admit Tony's deductive reasoning wasn't completely unsound. That, and they didn't have much else to go on for the source of the outbreak, save that Umbrella was connected to it all. Still, there were new questions nagging at her in place of the old ones.

"But why were they carrying a case filled with the virus in the first place? And why in the sewers? A spill here was a disaster waiting to happen. Even without the rats as the first carriers, the virus could spill and contaminate the water. Why were those soldiers moving the vials down here, and not somewhere else?"

And then another, more obvious question finally struck here.

"For that matter... why did that monster try to destroy the vials? The way it was acting in the video... killing the soldiers seemed like an afterthought..."

Tony listened to her questions, but could only shrug, his hand reaching out to hit the eject button on the VCR, taking the small tape out of it, and stuffing it back into one of his coat's many pockets. Only after he had pulled his hand back out did he respond.

"That's the most frustrating part of a puzzle. You have enough pieces in the right spot, you can almost make out the whole picture... but only _somewhat._"

With that cryptic comment delivered, Redgrave walked past Claire, starting for the opened vault door, calling back to the college girl as he did.

"C'mon, let's find Sherry, and get outta here. We'll figure out the rest once she's safe."

Now that, Claire could agree with easily.

The biker girl followed on the tails of Tony's coat, descending down another set of stairs and into a new room; a large power room by the looks of it. It was heavily shadowed, save for the dim red glow of the emergency lights lit up along the walls.

Opposite of a second large vault door that led to the trash compacting room Sherry was currently in, a section of open space was situated directly in the room's center, various turbines and wiring seen inside it, connecting a large section of piping opposite of it, a lone section of walkway leading to another room across from the trash compactor.

Tony hung back to take the darkened room in, while Claire quickly made for the front of the compactor, her grey blue eyes falling on a lone, large switch next to the door.

The relief she felt was almost incalculable, the grip on her heart and the weight on her shoulders falling away at the sight of the switch. One last obstacle, and then there would be nothing between her and the little girl she had promised to protect. Reaching the switch, the woman reached up with her right hand, grasping the large handle and pulled the switch down easily enough.

Aside from a soft mechanical sound of the switch descending, then snapping back up into place, nothing happened.

Claire didn't have the energy left to feel angry or frustrated. Behind her, Tony had flicked on his own flashlight, directing the beam towards the windows of the room across from the compactor door, his icy eyes spotting a large open panel along the wall far in the back right hand corner.

Calling to her as he began to walk for the door to the room, he declared, "Power's out. I can see a fuse panel in that room. I'll go and see if I can get the lights back on, and the door working again."

She nodded, mumbling an, "Alright," as Tony headed off, the door opening and closing as he stepped inside. She was suddenly very, very tired. If it wasn't one problem or obstacle down here, it was another. Even something as simple as a power outage was draining her will to keep going.

_It's just a blown fuse, that's all... It's an easily fixable problem. Tony will handle it, and then I can finally save Sherry. We'll get her out of there, and find a way out of the city..._

As if in response to her thoughts, the lights in the room came back on, the dull shadows mixed with the red from the emergency lights fading away into clear brightness. Blinking and looking up, Claire heard a soft electrical *_beep_* behind her. Spinning around, the college girl's face lit up into a dazzling smile when she saw the power light under the switch was back, a bright red dot on a dark surface.

Looking back at the window into the other room across from where she was standing, the girl spotted Tony stepping away from the open power panel, before he disappeared past the windows, heading for the door. The biker girl allowed herself a small sigh of relief. That was all that had been left. A simple power outage.

Turning back to the switch, Claire reached out to grasp it a second time, prepared to pull it down and finally get to Sherry-

-when a thunderous crash resounded through the power room, followed by a monstrous roar.

Whirling around, Claire's eyes widened in horror when she saw through the window in the next room, flames had engulfed the interior, and Tony was in a low crouch, shotgun out, his eyes gazing upward. When a second loud crash issued, Redfield saw a massive set of claws burst from the ceiling above the gunslinger, the long blades of bone nearly impaling him in the shoulder.

Eyes wide with terror, she screamed out his name.

"_TONYYY!_"

* * *

The interior of the small storeroom wasn't much to take in: a bunch of metal crates stacked in one corner, and the rest occupied by just a bunch of barrels reeking of diesel scattered all over the place. Fuel for the generators was Tony's conclusion. Walking up to the power panel and seeing all the switches were flipped down, Tony stared at them a moment before flipping them all up, one by one. Two meter gauges above them flickered, one staying in a red zone while the other wavered past the same spot.

Cocking a brow, and quickly realizing the solution, the snowy-haired youth flipped the second to last switch back down, causing the needle in the second gauge to flicker back into the red spot on it. At that, the interior of the room brightened somewhat, prompting the man to look past his shoulder, and out the lone set of windows the room possessed. The main power room had its light back on, and the new lighting allowed the swordsman to catch the bright smile that appeared on Claire's face.

His heart lurched his chest, a familiar, bittersweet sensation washing over him as he realized that was probably the last time he'd see such a smile on her face like that.

_Well, at least I helped put it there, so I got that going for me..._ he concluded with a sad smile of his own.

Moving away from the panel and towards the door, Tony reached out to grasp the handle-

-when his instincts screamed at him, making his eyes widen, and the man jump back, just in time, as a massive arm with long, bloody talons burst from the ceiling right above the door, a thunderous crash issuing as the claws collided with a set of barrels next to it, knocking them over, the long jagged tips igniting a single spark that touched the pouring fuel, causing it to burst into flames, the fire and fallen barrels blocking Redgrave off from the only exit.

Reaching over his shoulders to draw his shotgun, Tony glared at the ceiling stepping back several paces. Above him, he heard rhythmic pounding, like something heavy stomping around. When the pounding ceased just under him, the gunslinger ducked and rolled across the floor just as the ceiling burst, the large clawed arm wriggling its claws in vain to find its vanished prey. Rising up in a low crouch, the gunman racked the gauge on the shotgun and squeezed the trigger, blasting the arm with buckshot, sending sprays of bright red and orange blood splashing on the burning wall behind it.

The monster above snarled, yanking its arm back, dust and debris falling as the stomping above resumed. As it did, Redgrave caught the faint sight of a large, orange eyeball-like tumor swirling around in the upper bicep before the limb disappeared entirely. The mercenary had already figured what his attacker was, but that was the icing on the cake.

"Still kickin' around, huh?!" he called to it, racking a fresh shell into the shotgun. In response, he heard the beast growl deeply from its higher position.

Rising back up somewhat, Tony's eyes stayed glued on the ceiling above him, waiting for the creature to find a spot and try its impalement game again.

"_TONYYY!_"

When he heard Claire's voice screaming his name, his gaze snapped to his side, and he saw her running over for the door, one hand reaching for her holstered revolver.

Seeing this, Tony shouted back. "_CLAIRE, DON'T!_"

That sent her stumbling to a stop, her face expressing a mix of confusion and fear, but he was already shouting again before she could even open her own lips to argue.

"_STAY BACK, AND LET ME HANDLE THIS! SHERRY NEEDS YOU! NOW GET HER AND GO!_"

Whatever she may have said in response was drowned out by another deafening crash from above, Tony narrowly hopping back fast enough to dodge the beast's third attempt to gut him, the pale-haired man firing a second blast of buckshot in response, nailing the monster's palm and wrist in a spray of blood. The creature howled, yanking its arm back up, but the young gunman wasn't quite convinced it was in response to any real pain, more likely rage at still not having hit him yet.

The fire meanwhile, had spread over to the remaining fuel cans in the upper corner of the room, the temperature rising with the growing flames. Tony backed up, ignoring the sweat dripping down his forehead, and the smoke irritating his throat. Unbidden memories of his only nightmare tried to rear up, but the swordsman ignored them, his eyes locked on the ceiling. Still, the flames caught his eyes every now and again, the bright orange and yellow flares rising and spreading by the second.

_Now I know how a frozen pizza in an oven feels like,_ Redgrave quipped to himself.

Above the power panel, the ceiling burst, the monster's large arm grasping blindly for its enemy, but it was already yanking the clawed limb back up by the time Tony had the shotgun up and lined for a shot.

Annoyed, the man looked up, griping, "Mind holdin' still for a sec?!"

In response, the beast roared, the sound seeming much closer somehow. Tony blinked, unsure of where to aim, having not heard anymore stomps from above-

-when the wall behind him suddenly began screeching horribly, the metal bending, and Redgrave realized it wasn't a wall, but a dropped shutter. The steel continued to bend and give, metallic screeches undertoned by furious snarls, the large claws of the monster's large arm easily shoving and pushing at the shutter, bending it like scrap paper. With one final charge and roar, the steel shutter gave away entirely, the lumbering familiar form of the monster that was the G-Virus Carrier in its second form stumbling in, its new head rising up to look at him, the creature snarling as it set its head's eyes, and the eye growing out of its bicep, on him.

"Is it just me, or did you get uglier?" he asked rhetorically, before squeezing the trigger on the shotgun.

The blast of buckshot struck its chest, but the monster didn't even flinch. With an angry snarl, it swung its large arm out, the claws aimed to cut Tony's neck open. The red-coated gunslinger ducked under the strike, rolling behind the towering creature, and into the exposed pathway it had revealed. Rising up in a crouch, the youth saw a second orange tumor-like eye was growing out of the monster's back, the large orb falling on the young male as he lined the shotgun up at it.

"Here's lookin' at you," he stated before pulling the trigger.

The full buckshot load hit the eye directly, and the beast howled in pain, stumbling a few steps forward into the burning power panel room. The eye was bleeding badly, but the smaller wounds around it were already healing, the pellets from the buckshot falling away much faster compared to the similar injuries Tony had inflicted on it back in the power plant under the police station.

"Alright, then, let's change things up a bit, shall we?!" Tony inquired with a fierce grin.

Slinging the shotgun back over his shoulder and grasping Woozy's hilt, the swordmaster began backing up slowly, letting the G-Carrier pull itself up and whirl around with an enraged snarl. The beast charged for him, its large arm dragging behind it.

With a smirk, Tony rolled into the next corridor, dodging the monster's strike, which left deep gashes along the cement wall where Redgrave had been previously standing. Rising up and backing up, Redgrave checked his new location, and saw a wire mesh fence between him, with another passageway further down.

Turning and running, the mercenary heard the monster bellow its fury at its retreating prey, which was fine with Tony. He wanted it good and mad. Its anger would make it lose its focus, and see the coming fight in his favor. Turning down the alcove, the swordsman dashed along a final pathway, feeling drops of water descending from above, but paid them no mind.

When he saw a large platform below the drop of the end of an unfinished bridge, along with a massive red steel crate - the type you'd see loaded on transport ships - attached to a massive crane situated on the far opposite side of the room, Tony leapt off of the unfinished path, landing on the floor below. Behind him, he heard the rapid stomps of his opponent following, the creature howling for his blood.

Turning and backing up, the boy's eyes caught sight of the large yellow control panel for the crane along with a red generator it was hooked up to, and he quickly dashed over for it, smashing the largest button he could see with his fist. Instantly, emergency yellow lights began flashing, along with a warning series of beeps, before the crane came to life, dragging the steel crate off of the platform and over the abyss. Turning away from the control panel, Tony saw there was plenty of room for the coming brawl now that the crate was gone.

Just as the crane finished pulling the crate away, the G-Carrier landed on the platform, its misshapen head finding Tony before it tossed its head back and howled. Giving Woozy a twirl with his right hand, Tony's icy gaze fell on the sunken, shaggy face now situated on the creature's left pectoral, the face slack and defeated-looking. Despite himself, Redgrave found himself pitying what was left of the G-Virus Carrier's humanity.

"All that's left is putting you out of your misery, then," he mused to himself.

With that decided, the crimson-coated man thrust his sword out, letting the greatsword pull him forward in a Stinger, the barbed tip of the blade lining up with the creature's torso. The beast lowered its head, and swung its arm out, smacking the blade aside and almost sending him sprawling. Dodging its second swipe, Tony responded with a few slashes of his own, cutting into the monster's stomach, leaving deep gashes and spilling its bright red and orange blood on the floor.

The beast made no sound, save for a grunt as it brought its large arm down, attempting to squash Redgrave under its massive palm, but Tony back-peddled out of its reach, a heavy fleshy *_smack_* issuing as it struck the cement where he had been standing. Seeing his chance, the swordsman thrust his blade out again, digging Woozy's barbed tip into the glowing eye on the monster's bicep.

This time, it howled in pain, staggering back before suddenly swiping its large arm out again. This time, Tony didn't act fast enough, the claws tearing into his chest and launching him back several feet. The red-clad merc dug his heels into the floor, hissing through gritted teeth as he felt the torn front of his chest spurting hot blood, but the pain was fading gradually, his own healing abilities slower than the monster's but still effective.

The G-Carrier lumbered after him, snarling then roaring as it leapt forward, once again attempting to impale him with its large claws, the massive forearm descending fast. Dodging to the creature's left, Tony spun Woozy out in his hand, the blade becoming a Prop Shredder that tore into the monster's abdomen, bits of flesh and blood falling away with each spin cycle. Snarling, the G-Carrier swept its large arm out, but Redgrave ducked under the swipe, bringing his weapon down with him as he did, slashing twice more into the beast's legs, just below its knees.

That made it stumble, but it corrected its footing in the same motion, and, with a furious growl, slashed its arm out twice more. Tony ducked and weaved around the blows, but found himself forced back when the monster repeated its downward palm strike. As the man retreated, he found his back colliding with the wall behind him.

"Runnin' out of leg room," he commented to himself, quickly dashing out of the way of the G-Carrier's sudden stab, its claws digging into the wall instead.

Redgrave slashed out with his sword, cutting into the monster's gut with several strikes, blood spilling under them, and the monster roared its fury, ripping its arm free from the wall. Before Tony could get out of range, the beast snatched him by the throat with its still human-looking arm, hoisting him up and roaring in fury in his face.

"Ever try a breath mint?!" he quipped with a sneer, raising Woozy up, and ramming the sword deep into the crook of its shoulder.

Blood splashing, the monster howled and threw him away from itself. The man hit the floor and slid across the hard cement, before coming to a quick halt and hopping back onto his feet, dashing for the beast as it reached for the sword jammed into its upper shoulder.

Jumping, Tony snatched the gothic longsword by the hilt with both hands, his momentum and weight pulling the blade free in a spray of blood. Still in mid-leap, the swordmaster slashed his long sword across the monster's tumor-like eye, the one weak point it had carried over from its first form. The long howl of pain it issued was music to his ears.

Stepping back, twirling Woozy to fling off the G-Carrier's tainted blood, the grinning youth watched the creature collapse to its knees, its human arm weakly clutching its oozing eye, harsh pants for breath issuing from it. Seeing his chance, Tony twirled the sword again, preparing to launch another Stinger strike for its eye, but the monster was already pushing itself back onto its feet.

To Redgrave's frustrations, he could see all the wounds he had inflicted on it were either already healed over, or in the process of finishing closing up. Backing up, spinning his blade idly, the mercenary watched the monster finish orienting itself before it began lumbering for him again, furious snarls issuing from its dagger wound-like mouth, its single green eye glowing with dark intent.

Backing up and beginning to circle around the approaching monster, Tony weighed his options.

_Guns won't do much more damage than Woozy can. It's just healing too fast for me to inflict any lasting damage. I could try cutting him deeper, but then I run the risk of stayin' too close, and letting the freak gut me again,_ his mind rambled.

He just needed one good clean hit. Something strong enough to down it for good...

The man in red's circling came to a halt when his body collided with something. Blinking, looking to his left, Tony saw he had bumped into the yellow control panel for the crane holding the steel crate container. A wicked grin flashed across his face.

Looking back at the monstrosity, seeing it was closing in and standing directly where the crate had been, the man dropped his elbow down on the switch for a second time. Instantly, the warning siren started again, the yellow lights flashing again. Across the abyss, the mechanical crane shook and shuttered to life slowly.

Knowing he needed to keep the freak where he was, Tony charged forward in a Stinger, landing the strike dead-center on the monster's abdomen. The white-haired male dodged the beast's retaliating strike, swiping three more strikes, and cutting into its swollen chest and mutated arm, splashes of red and orange blood falling into the floor. The monster lunged out with its clawed hand, still trying to run him through, but Redgrave rolled under the attack, rising up in a spinning slash that cut deep into its side.

Seeing the new eye on its back a second time, the gunman's free hand shot into his coat, producing his Colt, which he jammed the barrel of against the eye, squeezing the trigger over and over again, each heavy round piercing the mutant organ deeply. The G-Carrier howled and attempted to backhand Tony, but the man dodged the strike with a quick backstep.

Hearing a heavy mechanical grind, Tony glanced out of the corner of his eye, and saw the large steel crate was swinging closer by the second, coming in hot and fast. Looking back at the G-Carrier, he holstered his handgun before giving it a quick salute. Behind him, the steel crate rapidly swung around, ready to collide with the solitary man between it and its intended target.

But Tony easily backflipped almost twelve feet into the air, sailing over the crate as it crashed over where he had previously been standing, nothing between it and the G-Carrier as it collided with the mutant's massive body. The white-haired boy landed on top of the crate, feeling it collide heavily with the monster-

-and grind to a slow halt as the beast shoved both its hands against the side of the crate, slowing its impact. The monster was still pushed off of the side of the platform, but it had both hands on the edge, the large clawed limb steadying it as it used its human arm to begin pulling itself up right.

Annoyed, Tony muttered, "For real? You're as stubborn as I am when it comes to stayin' down..."

Leaping off of the crate and landing next to the control panel of the crane, he punched the large red button a third time, the crane recalling the carrier a second time. As it did, Tony was scrambling for a new plan, and was deciding on trying to wait for the crane to get back in place, hit the switch again, and try to get the G-Carrier back on its knees before the carrier completed its rotation. With that decided, Redgrave spun around, just in time to see the crate being pulled away again-

-and the G-Carrier was practically on top of him, its large hand wrapping itself tight around his chest, yanking up and beginning to squeeze tightly. Unable to stop the surprised shout of pain from escaping his lips, Tony quickly swung Woozy out, stabbing the barbed tip of the blade deep into its large eye. Howling in fresh pain, the monster tossed him over its shoulder, causing him to release his hold on his sword's hilt.

Soaring through the air, the trickster spun to correct himself, landing in a crouch on both feet. Quickly turning around, he saw Woozy fall to the ground with a clatter, and the G-Carrier beginning to stomp after him, orange blood oozing down its bicep as it flexed its claws threateningly.

Reaching over his shoulder, Redgrave whipped out his shotgun-

-or rather, the Spark Shot. Looking at the weapon in surprise, which was replaced by a vicious grin, he lined the weapon's sight with the creature's tumor like eye and fired, the twin needles hitting their mark on the orange eye's pupil dead center. The mutant flinched, but kept stomping towards him, even as the electrical charge began to travel down the wires and into its body. Realizing the G-Carrier would be on top of him, Tony didn't have time to wait for the charge readout to hit red and released the trigger as it settled on yellow.

The G-Carrier's body spasmed as a powerful surge of electricity traveled through the wires and into its body, stopping it and leaving it twitching and smoking, its knees buckling. Seizing the chance, the young man dashed forward, jumping over the paralyzed monster, and landing by the control panel. Smashing the red button for the final time, he hoped, Tony quickly raised the Spark Shot back up, firing the final set of needles left in its clip directly into the bleeding eyeball on its back.

The G-Carrier staggered forward, roaring a deep groan of pain as fresh electricity traveled into its body, its mutant flesh beginning to char and burn. As the crane began its rapid spin for the platform, Tony released the trigger as the charge settled on a dark orange. The second powerful burst of electricity caused the abomination to howl and stumble down to its knees-

-right as the crane completed its turn, slamming the large steel container directly into the unprepared G-Carrier's body. The beast was slammed hard, both the carrier and it going over the edge of the platform's side. Reacting quickly, the beast plunged its claws into the crate's side, but the sudden additional weight it added to the carrier caused it to tip further over the edge. The monster's inflamed eye on its bicep blinked rapidly as it struggled to grip the crate's side with its human arm, weakly attempting to pull itself up to the top...

When the heavy cables holding the carrier began to snap and give from the monster's unintended pulling on the carrier. Then they snapped, and the crate plunged over the side entirely, causing the beast to let go, and plummet into the unending darkness below. Tony watched the entire thing, it had taken less than fifteen seconds entirely.

Once he heard a loud heavy crash from deep below, did he allow himself to breath a relieved sigh.

"I'd make a quip about falling and heights... but another annoyingly hard-to-kill freak beat ya to it!"

Giving the Spark Shot a thankful look over, Tony ejected the needle cartridge. To his disappointment, the magazine was completely empty.

"Well, you were fun while you lasted fella," he admitted, dropping the weapon next to the generator the crane control panel was hooked up into.

Picking up Woozy and slinging it back over his shoulder, Redgrave spotted a door just a hop away from the platform, with no visible means of crossing it. But that meant little to someone like him who could easily cross it with barely an effort.

"Gotta get back to Claire, see if she was able to reach Sherry," the mercenary murmured to himself.

He wanted to believe it was finally over. That with Sherry found, and the monster her father had become lost to the abyss below, there was nothing left to impede their escape from Raccoon City at last.

He'd soon find out that fate wasn't nearly as kind as he was hoping it would be...

* * *

_Minutes earlier..._

* * *

Claire cried out Tony's name and dashed for the door to the burning room he was trapped in, but she had barely run six feet when his voice issued from the burning room, his words loud over the crashing ceiling and crackling flames.

"_CLAIRE, DON'T!_"

That made her stumble to a stop, confusion overriding her instinctual fear. She wanted to shout something back, even if she didn't know what, but as usual in these circumstances, he beat her to the punch.

"_STAY BACK, AND LET ME HANDLE THIS! SHERRY NEEDS YOU! NOW GET HER AND GO!_"

That was all that was said on the matter, as more of the fuel canteens in the room he was trapped in ignited, his shotgun's blasts fading to the roaring flames consuming the room. Backing up, Claire could make out Tony's form through the fire blocking the front of the window, seeing him move somewhat, and she could hear a second blast from his shotgun issue. But soon the window was obscured in flames entirely. And while she thought she heard a monstrous and all too familiar roar, she wasn't sure.

"_Goddammit!_" Claire whispered to herself.

He was on his own, and she'd have to trust he would survive and come back to her. Maybe not unscathed, but he would still heal, and that would have to be good enough for her. He had survived fighting the creature once, and while he hadn't emerged unscathed in their second encounter, he was better prepared this time. At least, she hoped.

Spinning around and dashing for the compactor door, Claire pulled down the large switch a second time. This time, the small red light turned green with a pleasant ring, and gears began grinding as the large door began to rise up. Unwilling and unable to wait any longer, she quickly ducked under the rising door, scrambling inside the compactor. As she did, she heard a voice filtering from the speaker in the upper corner.

_"Sherry? Mommy's here... Sherry? Sherry, can you hear me?!"_ Annette's voice spoke from the speaker, sounding unsure and anxious instead of possessing the annoyed, condescending tone she had given the girl earlier. Somehow, that made Claire's heart begin to pound with worry.

As the college girl stood up and moved towards Sherry, she felt her chest seize up when she got a good look at the girl's face.

_No... Please, god, **no...**_

Sherry's face was pale and dirty, her eyes weakly and blearily half-opened, the left swollen and inflamed, large, pulsing veins along the eyelid and her cheek.

"Sherry? Sherry, can you hear me?" Claire asked desperately, the little girl only blinking in response, looking at Claire, but not really seeing her.

_"Claire?"_ Annette's voice called from the speaker, the female scientist surprised as she watched the older girl walk into the camera's view, appearing on the monitor screen of the observation room she had returned to.

_"What are you doing?"_ the older woman asked the younger, watching as the college girl scooped Sherry's limp body into her arms and rise up.

With contempt, Claire looked over her shoulder to glare back up at the camera before responding simply, "I'm here to help."

In the observation room, Annette turned her face away from the monitor in grief, swallowing before looking back, speaking with a detached tone in her voice she struggled to believe. As she spoke, she admitted the truth, her heart pained as she did.

_"Sherry's been implanted... She's been infected with the G-Virus. She can't be saved."_

William had managed to reach her, either before or after Annette had initially dismissed the child. And now her daughter was infected by the very virus her parents had labored over for the last decade. The irony was not lost on the scientist, as she realized she had given more of her life towards it than her own daughter, who was now a victim of her parents' research like the rest of Raccoon City. Perhaps that was her punishment for the vast amount of sins she had committed.

Feeling her despair give way to growing fury, Claire looked away from Sherry back to the security camera, hissing out, "Are you fucking kidding me?! You're her _mother! GET IN HERE!_"

_"You don't understand!"_ Annette pleaded from the speaker. _"William is still out there, and if I don' stop him-"_

Infuriated to hear the woman making yet another excuse, Redfield shouted, "This conversation is over!"

Turning, she moved for the open compactor door. She would just have to get Sherry out of the city, and pray she could get into contact with some kind of medical help - someone, _anyone_ \- who could treat the little girl before it was too late. She had barely taken two steps when the sound of a door opening made her pause, heavy footfalls heralding Tony's arrival from around the corner.

His icy eyes fell on Claire just as she noticed the long bloody gashes on his shirt, the flesh under the ripped fabric a bright pink, indicating he was probably still healing. When he saw her carrying Sherry, he approached, a relieved smile forming on his face, then falling instantly when he noticed the swelling around the child's eye.

Looking back up at her, he asked worriedly, "What happened to her?! She was supposed to be safe behind that compactor door!"

"She's infected," she told him, and Tony's eyes widened in horror. Looking back at Sherry, Claire elaborated further, "I think... I think that monster, the one she called 'Daddy...' It must have gotten to her before we did. It... It implanted her... just like it did to Irons."

The young man's horrified expression softened into a pained one as he looked at little girl's pale face. His gloved hand reached out, touching the child's cheek before he whispered, "...I'm sorry."

Looking back to the other girl, he asked, "So what do we do now? Even if we weren't underground right now, I'm willing to bet Raccoon General isn't exactly taking walk-ins."

His humor was weak, but Claire appreciated the effort, for once. She shook her head before responding.

"We're just gonna have to find a way out of here, even faster than we already were, and hope to God we can find someone who can help her-"

_"**Wait!** Wait..." _Annette's voice called from the speaker, interrupting the college girl. Both Tony and Claire glanced up at the camera, the former blinking suddenly at the new voice and the camera in the chamber, waiting for the female scientist to go on.

_"I... I can treat her... In my lab, it's not far away."_

At the sound of her mother's voice, Sherry's eyes blinked open, half-lidded but conscious, as the girl struggled for breath, coughing weakly.

"_Mommy...?_" she uttered.

Claire looked at the little girl, feeling her heart break for her.

Tony blinked, looking between the camera and Sherry before back to Claire, inquiring, "That's Sherry's _mom?_ She's down here, too?"

In the observation room, Annette felt her own heart squeeze tightly in her chest, the microphone of the security camera just barely registering her daughter's weak voice. Swallowing and struggling to maintain her composure, she spoke on before Claire could answer the new man's question.

_"There's not enough time... Millions of lives are at stake."_

Looking at the screen, staring at her daughter's face on the monitor, Annette uttered, _"Sherry... Mommy loves you, sweetie... Goodbye."_

In the compactor room, Tony shook his head. "No. Hey, _don't...!_"

Claire watched incredulously as the red light on the security camera flickered off, and took that to mean Annette had cut off the feed after uttering her final words to her daughter, all without considering telling the college girl which fucking direction to take to get to her lab.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!" she snapped to the camera.

She was going to kill that woman with her bare hands when she found her, and if she didn't have a cure for whatever Sherry was infected with, she'd make sure to do it slowly.

Equally angry, Tony contemptuously waved off the camera and speaker as he declared, "Mother of the year, everybody."

Looking back at the girl in her arms, Claire reassured her, "Sherry, don't worry. I will get you whatever you need, okay?"

Blinking, clearly exhausted and in pain, the child weakly asked, "Wh-why are you doing this?..."

That simple question broke the young woman's heart all over again as she realized Sherry genuinely didn't understand her compassion. Annette had failed her as a mother so completely, and Claire's hated for the woman kept growing.

But it wasn't her who answered.

"...Because she cares," Tony declared quietly.

Claire looked back at him, and her ex-lover gave her a small, reassuring smile. Smiling back, she nodded her thanks.

No one deserved to suffer like Sherry had, and if there was even a single chance that the girl could still be saved, Claire was going to do everything in her power to make it happen.

Smiling despite her discomfort, Sherry whispered, "Thank you, Claire..."

Repositioning the girl so her head was resting on her shoulder, Redfield quickly exited the trash compactor, turning and making her way towards the stairs she had descended to enter the room. The door next to, one neither she or Tony had noticed upon entering, was now open, and Claire presumed it was how Redgrave had returned to the power room.

The two ascended the steps, the man in red a few paces behind her, his voice calling to her as he asked the obvious question. "So how're we even gonna find this lab where Sherry's mom is at?"

The young man and woman arrived back in the monitor room, Claire power walking around the corner for the door back to the treatment pool room before speaking again.

"I don't know. There has to be something we missed,: a door, or an elevator. Something, anything-"

Arriving in the treatment pool room, the girl paused, still unsure of where to go.

-when it hit her.

"Wait... The cable car!" she realized.

It was the only thing that made sense. The only possible reason there was even such a thing was doing down in Raccoon City's sewers as a means of transportation to a secret laboratory underneath the city.

Behind her, Tony caught up, moving past her while saying, "I'll cover you. Come on, it's not much further."

Letting her ex-beau take the lead, the two crossed the lowered bridge, Sherry's soft voice moaning deliriously.

"Hold on, Sherry. You're gonna be fine," she promised the child. The college girl was prepared to do whatever was necessary to honor that promise.

Tony crossed the bridge, quickly moving to the left as Claire followed by the tail of his tattered coat. The cable car was just in sight, less than fifty feet away.

"Almost there, Sherry. We're almost there," Claire whispered, struggling to keep her voice calm and reassuring as her mind prepared for the worst possible scenarios that seemed to constantly rear their heads down in this godforsaken sewer.

Tony reached the tram first, moving towards the door on the side, next to a glowing green monitor, which the biker girl hoped was a good sign that the car was working. Her heart fell when she saw the words 'Access Denied' flashing across the green screen.

The white-haired youth was looking over the door for a switch or button that would open it. As Redfield moved closer to the car as well, Sherry's right hand fell limply to her side, the metal bracelet she was wearing flashing a similar green. The words 'Access Denied' vanished, a lock symbol unlocking on the monitor as a gentle musical note chimed.

The door opened automatically with a soft mechanical hiss. Blinking, Claire quickly moved inside, looking around. A set of stairs descended down into the large car's interior, and the student saw a lone bench situated next to the controls at the far bottom.

Walking down them, she placed the little girl on the bench, gently saying, "Here you go." Looking at the twelve-year-old's pained face, the older girl brushed her pale blonde locks while whispering, "Just hold on Sherry, okay? You're going to be just fine."

Rising back up, absently noting that Tony had followed her in and was slowly walking down the steps, Claire moved towards the control panel. Seeing a large handle switch, the college girl reached out to pull it down-

-when the interior lighting and the various L.E.D. lights on the control panel flickered, casting everything into darkness briefly, before flashing back on.

Behind her, Tony froze, his icy eyes widening as he felt a familiar wave of pressure descending down on him.

Unaware of her companion's sudden stillness, the woman reached out and pulled the lever down. Instantly, the cable car lurched forward, the engines starting as the tram began to travel forward into the darkness. There was no going back now, she realized.

They'd get to Annette's lab soon enough, and the young biker girl could only pray there would be no more obstacles between them to save Sherry.

She knew that was asking for a lot, considering everything else that had happened in Raccoon City, but she had to believe that if she was going to save the little girl's life...

_Please, God, just **one** break. That's all I'm asking for,_ she whispered, hoping some deity would hear her, and answer her prayers.

But prayers often went unheard deep under the breath...

* * *

Shadowed eyes watched the cable car lurch forward, beginning its descent deeper underneath Raccoon City.

The bandaged swordsman named Gilver watched the tram carry his quarry off into the darkness. Deeper into the bowels dug out for Umbrella's secret complexes. Deeper into the darkness.

The corners of the bandages around the edges of his mouth crinkled as the mysterious man grinned to himself.

Deeper into Hell.

And soon Tony Redgrave would have to face the devil himself.

Unable to help himself, the stranger let out a soft laugh before the lights of the treatment pool room flickered, plunging it deep into the shadows.

When they came back on, the darkly-dressed figure was gone, only the echoes of his laugh remaining.

* * *

If you haven't already figured it out, I just LOVE ending chapters on ominous cliffhangers.

Chapter Ten! And it's only...almost four months overdue! New record!

Sorry about the long wait guys, real life felt like beating me down (Still is to an extent, but that's my fault at the moment).

I won't bore you all with the full details, just briefly lost my job, got low, thought I had Covid-19 at one point, etc, etc.

But I pushed through, and this chapter is finally done! It's extra long too, so I hope that makes up for the wait.

ALSO CHECK OUT THAT DOPE ASS NEW COVER ART DA-AWESOM-ONE HAD COMMISSIONED FOR ME FROM NAOMI GUMBS! ISN'T IT BEAUTIFUL?!

I'm so happy with all the (mostly) positive feedback this story has gotten. I had no idea people would enjoy this little crackship I stumbled upon almost a decade ago, but I'm glad to see this story do so well, which I attribute to the Awesom-One and his bombass editing skills.

There's not much left after this, just NEST. In the immortal words of Doctor Strange: "We're in the endgame now."

I'm not gonna make any promises on how soon I can get the next chapter out, but there really aren't that many left to be written.

Also, I get the feeling Claire's decision in this chapter is gonna upset some of you. Which is fine, but if I see any hate reviews, I'm dropping the ban hammer. Take that crap elsewhere.

Drop a fave/follow and a review if you like, and please check out Da-Awesom-One's own page as well, give his stories some love because without him, Made In Heaven wouldn't be here.

Pssst...there's a Bayonetta reference in this chapter.


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